


I Shall Not Sing In Vain

by RosaClearwater



Series: Dashing Away with the Music Sheets, She Stole My Choir Away [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: And of course we've got Chelsie, Cathartic experiences for pretty much everyone, Choir AU, Ensemble Piece, F/M, Gen, Handling drama on top of drama, Modern AU, Not so great authority figures as well as some fantastic ones, Thomas is an absolute imp in this, We've got solos and drama and competitions and lots of fun coming your way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-10-07 18:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 223,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: Four months ago, Charles Carson would have balked at attempting the “scandalous attempt at sound” that is a cappella music.Now, he can’t help but be enamored with both the music and the woman who started it all: one Elsie Hughes.Or, times have changed and he is finally willing to change with them.





	1. First Impressions and Recovering Curmudgeons

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey or the characters from Downton Abbey. Further disclaimer: I will be referencing fictional choral events/conventions/competitions. They are loosely inspired by real ones, but there should be no real resemblance.
> 
> Hello again! For newcomers, welcome! This is a sequel to "Dashing Away with the Music Sheets, She Stole My Choir Away". Trust me when I say that it will help to read that first if you've not already done so.
> 
> To returning readers, thank you so very much for joining me again! Do note that this will be a little different than the previous story: we're going to go a bit more in depth into some singing techniques, we're going to have solos for a fair amount of the main ensemble, there'll definitely be some drama, and there'll be far more than just a hint of Chelsie romance this time around.
> 
> Also! In this chapter, italicized quotations ("like so"), simply refer to phone calls. Normally, they'd be referring to song lyrics.
> 
> And finally, this chapter is also a little longer than normal. It's also very Elsie heavy. It does not reflect the overall perspective of the story - I certainly plan on bouncing around perspectives like normal - it's just to set the stage.
> 
> Now, who's ready for the story to begin?
> 
> _._

It was just the start of another day for Elsie Hughes.

 

Except, there were two differences:

 

Instead of scouring newspapers and the Internet in search of potential job - on the very off chance Downton no longer wanted her services - she found herself able to rest in bed for a extra few minutes.

 

Though, the second difference didn't keep her in bed for much longer.

 

With a readiness that wasn't possible six months ago, she brought herself to a drawer that hadn't been touched in ages. And, after a moment of consideration tempered with silence, she slowly opened it.

 

"I think it's time, love," She whispered to the box - a small box that she had kept tucked away after all these years.

 

The ring was slowly, gently removed from her finger with far more strength than she'd anticipated. Though, if she'd learned anything within the last few months, it was that the world could still surprise you even when you feel you've seen it all.

 

After an indefinite amount of time, Elsie finally placed the ring tenderly back into the box. No tears emerged at the action, no sighs of despair. When she had spoken of no longer being that farm girl anymore, a confession just a few weeks prior, she was being quite candid.

 

It's true that she would always hold love for Joe in her heart. That there wouldn't be a sadness or a touch of grief whenever she was reminded of him and what they had.

 

But it was time to return to life.

 

No matter what became of her future, she had to let this symbol of the past go.

 

**_._**

 

"Mr. Carson," It was highly unusual for Charle- for Mr. Carson to call her, let alone for him make such a strange request. Then again, this was quite the unusual situation. "Mr. Carson, please promise you'll stay in bed for another day. It's only the start of a new semester, not a new school year. I can update Mrs. Butte on the plans and inform the students of the announcements we've previously discussed."

 

" _Mrs. Hughes, are you sure the stage isn't flooding?"_

 

"Mr. Carson," It felt like she'd been repeating herself for the last hour, though the conversation had only been a few minutes. "I'm standing on the stage right now. Everything is as it should be. The only thing that's wrong is that  _you_ are currently  _not_ resting."

 

He doesn't immediately respond to this, doesn't huff out a denial or protest at the very idea of rest. And while that lack of obstinacy does please her, it also tells her just how serious this "little flu" was. So, after she gave him another minute, Elsie took his silence as her cue to hang up.

 

"Mr. Carson, I will be dropping by later to check in on you. But, before anything else, promise me you'll have a proper lie down and actually rest. That you'll not spend the next several hours worrying about things here, when I- when we have it all well in hand." She hoped that he wouldn't think her rude when she didn't originally include Mrs. Butte in managing things here.

 

She stood there, waiting for a response in an auditorium still amazed her every time she came in. An auditorium that had stolen her breath the first second she'd entered, also stealing her heart away not long after.

 

Still, that amazement did not overtake the frustrated worry she felt about her colleague - the same man who had always tried to shoo her away from mere drizzle for her health - acting like the pot calling the kettle black.

 

Fortunately, even obstinate pots can eventually see reason.

 

" _I promise._ "

 

She didn't sigh aloud in relief. But she certainly smiled.

 

"You promise what, Mr. Carson?" She could hear a gruff huff of disdain at this, but she wasn't taking any chances.

 

" _I promise I'll have a 'proper lie down and actually rest'. That I will refrain from spending the day worrying about things here when you - when you and Mrs. Butte have things 'well in hand'."_

 

Now, she outright grinned. For once, the pot was  _not_ calling the kettle black.

 

Wait till Beryl heard about this.

 

"I'm holding you to that, Mr. Carson." Elsie looked back at the stage, thinking she's heard something. "Now, I've got to go. Bye for the moment."

 

They both hung up, and she waited another moment on the stage - closing her eyes so as to hear everything a bit better. There's the eerie silence that accompanies any performance setting that's empty, a faint rumbling of something - probably the pipes - and that's really it.

 

When it's clear it was only her imagination, Elsie allowed a sigh to emit.

 

 _That silly man almost had me convinced that something was wrong,_  Is the bemused thought that accompanies her as she stepped out of the auditorium and back into the chattering hallways.

 

But, no matter. If a stage was flooding, it was only in his dreams.

 

_._

 

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes!" Cora Crawley was on a few missions today and one of her targets was currently in sight. Suffice to say, the woman wouldn't be letting the choir teacher go quite so easily. "Have you seen Mr. Carson at all?"

 

Elsie had just made it to the entrance of the stairwell, her back to Cora as she readied herself for whatever else the woman had to say.

 

"I'm afraid that Mr. Carson fell ill two nights ago, Mrs. Crawley," When she finally turned around to face her main boss, she's very professional and respectful - even as she's getting the feeling that this will be a very long day. "And he's unfortunately unable to teach today."

 

"But, not unwilling, I'm sure." The administrator dryly remarked, garnering a faint chuckle from Elsie.

 

"No, Mrs. Crawley, not unwilling in the slightest." They shared a look, breaking away from the protocols of teacher-admin interactions for a second or two to poke fun at the situation.

 

"In that case, please refrain from mentioning he has a few emails from me. I do not require his correspondence just yet." Cora smiled once more, her amusement growing as she noticed faint signs of relief in the choir teacher.

 

"I'll be sure to do as such, Mrs. Crawley. Was there anything else you wanted me to know?"

 

"Only that I'm so very thrilled to hearing what the choirs have in store next." Elsie nodded at this, taking the dismissal as a reason to return back to the stairwell. "Oh, and when you see him next do let him know that we all wish him a speedy recovery!"

 

"Of course, Mrs. Crawley." Came the warm response as the woman started her trek up the stairs. Though, even while responding, the choir teacher had already mentally left the conversation: she was now going over the day's classes, announcements, and learning material.

 

It was, of course, the fact that she was in such deep thought that Elsie missed something within the conversation. By concentrating on the future, she didn't realize the implication behind Cora's statement. The implication that the Elsie would be seeing Mr. Carson much sooner than any the administrators.

 

She also didn't realize that she had unintentionally encouraged such an implication to grow with her response.

 

"Isn't it wonderful to have such a caring environment at Downton?" Cora would later remark to Isobel, her mind still thinking about the two choir teachers.

 

"I'm sure I could agree, if I had any idea as to what it is you're referring to." Isobel would eventually reply, more than a little concern for her fellow administrator. After all, Cora would be mentioning this right as Isobel would be watching the coffee machine sputter to a halt for the fifth time that year.

 

That, in Isobel's book, did not make for 'such a caring environment'.

 

_._

 

"So, you're Mrs. Hughes then?" It's the first words she receives from Emma Butte and, though nothing unkind was said, there was something in that tone that Elsie didn't necessarily care for.

 

"That would be correct. Mrs. Butte, I take it?" It wasn't the smoothest response, but she was already thrown off-guard by the morning in general. The woman in question nodded, gesturing to her lanyard - the same lanyard that Elsie hadn't been paying attention to.

 

"I take it you're looking forward to staying on, then?" Elsie met her colleague's eyes squarely, feeling like this were a test of sorts.

 

"That is correct, yes." She doesn't inform the woman that helping Downton's choirs has been one of the only things she's been looking forward to as of late. That and cultivating her friendship with Downton's choir director as much as she can.

 

Of course, she doesn't elaborate either points though. There's something that tells Elsie that she's better off not mentioning any of that just yet, if ever.

 

"Oh, that I'm sure." The woman said with another hint of something not quite unkind but not quite pleasant. But, it's still early days and everyone's always off when it's the first day back. "Well, in that case, you can help the choirs by calling up Mr. Carson and asking what his priorities of the day are - seeing as how term is just starting. While we have had discussions this break, I'm sure you're aware of Charles's desire for perfect structure, whether he's here or not"

 

"Actually, I just got off the phone with Mr. Carson a few minutes ago." Even though that probably wasn't the wisest admission, they only had seven minutes before class started. And, Elsie did not want to ring up her friend anytime soon unless it were absolutely vital.

 

"Did you now?"

 

"Yes, I did."

 

There's another pause that Elsie doesn't quite like, but can't fully explain. What with the concern about Mr. Carson, the desire to make sure this first impression goes decently, making sure the choirs begin to delve into the future-

 

"And what were his requests?" Luckily, Elsie is quite the professional. Even when lost in her concerns, she could remain quite level-headed and poised.

 

"For today, you are to take over his normal responsibilities - the Beginning Male Choir and Advanced Mixed."

 

"Which leaves you with Bel Canto and Beginner's."

 

Elsie nodded, thinking aloud as she responded.

 

"And the  _a cappella_  choir. But there's no need to concern yourself about them." Mrs. Butte managed to not quite do a double-take at this, but her surprise was still imminent.

 

"The  _what_  choir?"

 

"The  _a cappella choir._ Seeing as how it's a Monday, we will be rehearsing after school today."

 

"Oh, I see." For a moment, Mrs. Butte's tone reminded Elsie of Sarah O'Brien's. But, now was not the time nor the place to make such a remark. "And is the  _a cappella_ choir a choir that Mr. Carson erected?"

 

 _Elsie Hughes,_ Came the stern thought that kept her face straight after hearing a question that just so happened to be phrased… in a fascinating manner.  _You will not snicker or snort like some sixteen year old. You are a professional who will not chortle at the terrible word-choice of another colleague._

 

"No. I was the one who erect- it was my idea." She almost lost her ability to maintain absolute decorum at the terribly childish implication. "One that was only brought forth at the request of the students, of course."

 

Mrs. Butte seemed to hold an opinion on that comment, but her face didn't give any sort of real reaction to read from. Only a faint smile that seemed to grow.

 

In any case, there were now only three minutes before class started.

 

"I see."

 

It was a repetitive response. And, still, Elsie would take it over any further discussion any choirs recently "erected" within this fine institution.

 

_._

 

For Alfred Nugent, singing as a way to start the day had never been appealing. Starting off the school day by singing genuinely sounded more like a new form of torture and/or embarrassment.

 

That is, until he met Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. After that, singing became pretty cool. Once he'd started singing in the Bass Choir, that became obvious. They were both teachers who deserved absolute respect and absolutely respected not only their subject but also their students.

 

So, it was with a bit of pep to his step that Alfred traversed up to the second fourth floor. A bit of a pep that was sped up by the realization that he was a few minutes late to class already.

 

Fortunately, his height gave an advantage when it came to running up the remaining steps.

 

Unfortunately, by the time he got to 402 the door was on its way to being shut.

 

"Mrs. Hughes!" He cried out to the woman now closing the door on his face. But a second glance showed that -

 

"I am  _not_ Mrs. Hughes," The woman primly declared, certainly not interested in letting him enter the classroom now that he had made that mistake.

 

"Oh, I am quite sorry,"

 

"I am Mrs. Butte. And  _you_ are late. For that, you can come in through the other entrance - if it's not locked." And, with that, she shut the door on him.

 

Alfred blinked, definitely not expecting that first thing in the morning.

 

_Where is Mrs. Hughes? For that matter, where is Mr. Carson?_

 

Luckily, just because he was late didn't mean he was out of luck.

 

"Alfred? What are you doing outside?"

 

The very woman he had been hoping to see was walking towards him, carrying some extra copies of the syllabus for the upcoming semester.

 

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes, am I glad to see you!" She raised an inquiring eyebrow at this, but he didn't explain. It didn't necessarily feel right to talk about Mrs. Butte's treatment of him - seeing as how he did make the mistakes of being late  _and_ not realizing who she was.

 

"Yes, well, we can't stay outside all day, now can we?" He smiled, relieved that she was now opening the door to the classroom and letting him in. While he probably should've gone through the other entrance like Mrs. Butte had requested, it probably wasn't that big of a deal.

 

Or, at least, that's what he hoped for.

 

But, seeing as how their entrance hardly took away from Mrs. Butte's speech to the Men's Ensemble - a lecture on the expectations for the semester now that she was back - there was hardly any real cause for concern.

 

At least, not for Alfred…

 

_._

 

Charles Carson reached for the mobile device one more time, feeling as though he should check in on the choirs once more. Rarely was he ever this incapacitated, and never did he feel this off-kilter.

 

But, there was just one problem.

 

" _The only thing that's wrong is that_ you  _are currently_ not  _resting."_

 

That phrase kept repeating itself whenever he dared to pick up the phone. Not only that, but if he did call her then she'd have proof he didn't uphold his promise.

 

And Charles Carson was a man who kept his promises.

 

So, here's hoping Mrs. Hughes would keep her promise about dropping by later. After all, the trade-off for resting was receiving the company of and an in-person report from the woman of the hour. He'd made this arrangement knowing that her presence would reassure him that all was well - regardless of what had actually transpired in his absence.

 

And, truly, he needed her presence in this moment.

 

For, no matter what Charles tried to do, all he could feel in his gut - other than the ridiculous flu that currently overtook his body - was that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

 

_._

 

"As many of you are undoubtedly aware," Mrs. Butte began her third speech for the day. "Whether Mr. Carson is absent or not, we will be working to be the best choir we can be."

 

Many in the Advanced Mixed Choir began to straighten up in their seats at this. Now, unfortunately, Mrs. Butte had sent Elsie to third floor in order to print out a few extra copies of syllabus for the semester - the syllabus that spelled out the spring-only events, choir expectations about said events, and more.

 

This was unfortunate for many reasons, the key reason being that Emma Butte was now going to speak to the choir as she felt fit.

 

"So, if you're going to make a mistake, now's the time. The next two weeks are your last chances to be wrong, to screw up, to do whatever you'd like to call it. Because if you've expected our standards to lower in my absence, you are mistaken." Her smile turned sharklike at this, the gleam in her eyes serving to reinforce the fact that she was not having a laugh or some silly equivalent.

 

Straightening spines stiffened in response.

 

"Make no mistake - I will know if you are ruining the perfection this choir can reach. And, if you cannot maintain that level of excellency, you will not be allowed to bring this choir down. You are members of the Advanced Mixed Choir - not one of those quaint beginner ensembles. And, I'm sure Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson will be in perfect agreement with me when I say that you will either perform accordingly or you will be replaced."

 

When the door next opened, a few minutes after Mrs. Butte wrapped up her little speech, Elsie was surprised to feel a change in atmosphere.

 

"Ah, Mrs. Hughes!" Emma cordially greeted her upon arrival, taking her attention away from noticing the tension. "Would you care to have the honor of informing the students of the competitions?"

 

She nodded in response, turning back to the students with ease.

 

"As I'm sure you already know, we will be competing in a choir competition come late March. And, as I'm sure many of you are familiar with, there will also be a solo competition around that same time. If you are interested in performing a solo, know that I will be the one in charge of it and we would be working either during lunch periods, after school, or for some of this class period."

 

Tension melted at this, tension that Elsie could only attribute to first day nerves - though, her gut feeling was whispering something else. Still, there wasn't time to give it any proper thought.

 

"Therefore, if you're interested in a solo, please drop by either during your lunch period or after-school to let me know. You have until the end of next week to inform me. And, as always," She spared a glance at Thomas before returning her gaze to overlooking them as a whole. "The  _a cappella_ choir will continue after-school rehearsals every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Any newcomers are welcomed as well as returning students."

 

This coaxed a few more smiles.

 

"Now, since those are all the current announcements,"

 

"But, Mrs. Hughes, what about Carnegie?" Emma interrupted, causing several heads to do a double-take.

 

_What exactly did Mrs. Butte mean when she spoke of "Carnegie"?_

 

"What Mrs. Butte is referring to is something that has not been confirmed yet." And something Elsie didn't want to even mention until Mr. Carson returned. "But, we may have the opportunity of traveling to Carnegie Hall - yes, the Carnegie Hall that resides in the States - right after our concert. A choir organization will be hosting an international youth festival in May, having been inspired by the "World Choral Festival" this last October.

 

"While we have the opportunity to register, we have not officially secured funding from the school to participate. Therefore, while it is something to keep in mind, there is no guarantee that we will be able to go." The choir teacher continued, able to withhold her frustration at the fact that about thirty students were now glowing with excitement at an idea that couldn't be promised. "I will be happy to answer questions after class. But, I do believe Mr. Carson wanted us to start working on 'Set Me As A Seal' today."

 

"An excellent piece to start with," Emma noted, walking over to where Mr. Carson normally stood. "If you would be so kind as to pass that out before you return to the piano."

 

Elsie paused, not necessarily liking how that was phrased. But, there wasn't any real reason to dilly-dally, so she grabbed the stack of music sheets and began to promptly hand it out.

 

"Now, I'm sure Mr. Carson will be happy to work on context and stage-presence when he returns. I, on the other hand, am more interested in perfecting these notes."

 

"Of course," Elsie couldn't help but chime in, not wanting the students to dismiss those parts of a performance. "You certainly do not have to wait for Mr. Carson to return to start researching the song and looking into the purpose behind its composition."

 

"Quite right. However, for today's purpose, our attention is to be on practicing our sight-singing and perfecting the rhythms."

 

Elsie paused once more in her passing out the music, surprised that this was the level of work her colleague was expecting from the start. Even Charles was a bit more lenient when it came to the first day of school from what she remembered.

 

Though, with two competitions and a concert only a little ways away, Elsie could only suppose that this was the normal mentality for the spring semester. Or, at least, this was Emma's mentality when it came to preparing the choir for their competition.

 

Little did she know, this was merely her colleague's mentality for  _all_  semesters.

 

_._

 

Several class periods later, the final bell of the school day was ringing, signaling that it was almost time for her favorite rehearsal of the day.

 

"Have a lovely first rehearsal, Mrs. Hughes," Mrs. Butte sweetly spoke, already heading towards the exit. "I look forward to seeing what comes of this semester."

 

"You as well, Mrs. Butte."

 

The woman nodded before closing the door and beginning to exit out of the building.

 

Elsie sighed the second the door was shut. That wasn't to say that she needed to sigh because Emma Butte had struck her as a terrible person or some equivalent. It was just taking longer to adjust to her colleague. She could only supposed that she'd gotten too used to working with only with Charles, and that was making it difficult to work as well with Emma.

 

But it's not fair to judge someone when you've only just met them. And she's going to be late to her first rehearsal if she fixates on the matter. So, it's with a feeling of renewed vigor that Elsie lets go of this pondering, packs up for the day and brings her purse alongside with the first  _a cappella_ song of the semester over to 403.

 

And upon seeing an even larger than normal crowd waiting for her, she couldn't help but beam with pleasure, forgetting all about Emma Butte.

 

 _This_ , after all, was what was truly important.

 

**_._**

 

As Elsie finally stepped up to a door she'd only recently become acquainted with, she couldn't resist smiling at the sight. Even though she was hoping for Charles to be sound asleep and resting, she knew reality would probably be quite different. And, interestingly enough, thinking that only made the exhaustion of the day slide off her shoulders and fade away.

 

She knocked briskly on the door, noting that it only took a quarter a minute for it be opened by her friend. The smile faded quickly at the sight of her friend looking so worn out - his normally immaculate appearance was quite disheveled in more ways than she could count.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, is it that time already?"

 

"All rehearsals have finished for the day, yes." He let her into the humble abode and, much to her growing frustration, she saw that his laptop was opened and showing multiple unread emails.

 

"Mr. Carson," She began to speak, tired of his continuing to ignore his health needs. But her irritation was quieted when he placed a hand on her shoulder so as to explain the situation - unintentionally shocking her into silence with the physical contact.

 

It seemed his medication was unintentionally removing some layers of propriety that had once threaded their relationship together.

 

Fortunately, he was just as oblivious to her shock as he was to the effects of his medicine.

 

"I only just opened it a few minutes ago - I promise I stayed in bed all day." His voice was a little hoarse from the lack of use, and while she knew he wasn't lying to her she did take note of his word choice.

 

"You promised me you'd rest." She said, resisting the urge to close the laptop case for him. Normally, she wouldn't be treating any friend as such. After all, Elsie knew the irritation that came from being mother-henned. But, Charles really looked quite awful and in desperate need of rest. And going over emails, handling correspondences, all that wouldn't give his body the break it needed.

 

"I know I promised." He frowned at her frustration, still weary enough that it didn't occur to him that she might be worried for his health. "And I did spend a few hours not worrying about anything, thanks to that cold medicine you gave me."

 

"Yes, well, the only way you'll get better is by not opening that thing and actually giving yourself a chance to rest!" Once it's been snapped, she wants to take it back immediately. Impulsive retorts wouldn't get them anywhere, even if it came from a place of understandable concern.

 

"You're right."

 

The admission took some of the fight out of her. But, she couldn't let the matter rest just yet.

 

"Charles, I'm not going to make you any sort of deal or treat you like a child when it comes to taking care of yourself," Heaven knows she's had enough of those friendships herself. "I am, however, going to ask that you kindly refrain from forcing yourself to do more than you're currently capable of.

 

"And I'm also going to request that you let others help. That you tell someone so that you're not suffering alone. It doesn't have to be me that you talk to," She did want it to be her. But if talking to Mrs. Butte or someone else is what he felt he needed to do, then she'd accept that. "But, I am going to ask you to consider mentioning this to someone the next time it happens. That way you can receive the help you need."

 

Because she did not ever again want to discover he was sick only because he accidentally called her in the middle of the night - overtaken by a fever-induced delirium and under the impression she was some woman named Alice, among other things. Luckily, that moment was now in the past. And it certainly didn't have to repeat itself if her friend decided to  _not_ be foolishly stubborn about his well-being!

 

Charles took in her request silently, offering no clear sort of response. Though, after a moment of thought, he did start to walk away.

 

Elsie closed her eyes, hoping that he wasn't about to send her away because she overstepped the boundary lines with this. She hadn't meant to have done so - but in retrospect, it wouldn't surprise her if he now was about to send her on her way.

 

She waited a few seconds, anticipating some dismissing equivalent of "While I appreciate your candor, Mrs. Hughes, I do believe it's far more impertinent than the situation calls for."

 

All she heard was the closing of the laptop.

 

"Thank you."

 

She heard an abnormally raspy version of a chuckle emit at her remark, opening her eyes to see him faintly smiling at her.

 

"No, Mrs. Hughes," He found himself now reminded of another time in their relationship - the very first time he started to give  _a cappella_ music a real chance. "Thank you."

 

Her lips curved upwards at this, the memory reflected in his voice. And, as she guided him into sitting more comfortably - to just chat for a bit and eventually talk about the school day - she found that a little mist had taken hold of her eyes.

 

_._

 

Now, it was a fact of life that Elsie Hughes was typically correct about many things. And, in asking her friend to let go of his obligations for the rest of the day, she had indeed made the right decision in regards to his recovery.

 

For had he started scanning through his emails, he would have come across two of great interest. The first email, one Cora Crawley had sent, would have been fairly tolerable to absorb, if not a tad stressful: it was an announcement about a staff/student musical showcase in early April.

 

It was the second email, also sent by Cora, that would have been cryptic enough to create a tension that would certainly not help his current condition...

 

_._

 

_**Mr. Carson,** _

 

_**I would very much appreciate it if we could meet sometime within the next week. There is a matter of great importance involving the choirs that we need to discuss sooner than later.** _

 

_**Best,** _

 

_**Cora Crawley** _


	2. Collapses and Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some drama, some fluffy Chelsie moments, some proper reactions from the students about everything, and some further build in plot?
> 
> Also, as a note about updates: I'm going to try to consistently update every 2-3 days. If something changes, I'll be sure to let you all know.
> 
> Now, let's get this show on the road!

He came back much too soon, this she could immediately tell.

 

But she could also tell that saying as such was just make things worse.

 

"It figures that our elevator will be out of commission for the next three weeks." Elsie darkly muttered, walking alongside Charles as they trudged up the stairs. But, he shook her frustration away, more focused on getting caught up on any news.

 

"I know you gave me a brief report of everything that happened yesterday when you dropped by," Which, in her opinion, was the opposite of letting him rest and recover, "But, has anything changed at all today?"

 

The man paused a moment, already looking a bit too woozy for her liking. Frankly, she had a half a mind to grab him and drag him back in the direction of the nurse's office - or, simpler still, back to his home. She was sure Mrs. Butte could handle the students if it was indeed necessary to guide Charles all the back to his home and deposit him into bed. Though, if that did happen, it would probably become necessary to restrain him somehow so as to ensure he's staying in said bed.

 

Of course, thinking of that created ideas that were certainly not appropriate - especially considering just who it was in mind!

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" She was pulled back to the present moment with ease, determined not to get caught up in these silly little fantasies that had been intermittently sneaking into her mind for a some time now.

 

Though, speaking of getting caught up in one thoughts, she had a theory she wanted to test about her colleague.

 

"The rooms are currently ablaze courtesy of the altos, heads have been lost due to the tenors, none of the music is accounted for thanks to the baritones and basses, and the sopranos have protested being repeatedly given the melody." He blankly nodded, confirming that he had not heard a single word she'd just utter. "Mr. Carson are you sure you should be back so soon? According to Isobel, you could apparently be gone for a whole semester and still have available sick days."

 

"No, Mrs. Hughes, that is not an option." And, yes, he was still purposefully addressing her as such even after knowing the truth of her marital status. "I simply cannot allow any more chaos to descend upon our program."

 

Oh, she was going to strangle him if he kept indulging in a obstinacy that would do him far more harm than good.

 

"And when you collapse in front of the students? What then?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

Elsie sharply shook her head at this inattentive sound, exasperated beyond belief.

 

"Well, this has reassured me." The woman drawled, hardly needing to hide her eye-roll when he was this distracted.

 

"I'm glad to hear that-" He almost stumbled, having slipped up on a step. She reached out to help him, trying to stop him from taking a fall down the stairs. This only resulted in her putting out her hands to stop him as she realized he was in worse shape than even she anticipated.

 

"Steady on, Mr. Carson!" She cried out, noticing her colleague start to sway at a lumbering  _lento._

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I can assure you-" That's when he stumbled once more.

 

That's also the moment that she's found herself maneuvering on the stairs to properly catch him - wrapping her arms around him the moment she could take hold of him. This was a little difficult to do on steps, especially since she was just a tad smaller than her colleague, but after a minute Elsie found herself securely holding onto her friend.

 

And, if Charles even dared to mention how she was not acting with "propriety" or "decorum" with these actions she would ditched her original plan of bringing him to a practice room to rest a little before class. Instead, she'd settle for hauling him back down the stairs towards  _her_  home - it was closer, after all - before proceeding to toss him onto her bed and staying there until he fell asleep.

 

Because if he thinks  _this_ is improper, he's in for a rude awakening in regards to how Elsie could really treat the situation.

 

"Let's try this new concept called 'taking our time' shall we? Surely we can do that, if anything." Now that she had his back pressed firmly into her chest in an effort to keep him from falling over, she was going to stay right by his side. "I can assure you, with the echo these stairs provide, we'll know if a student is about to see you in such a state. I can also assure that, if a student does appear, I will  _not_ be letting go."

 

As though on cue, the entrance door to the third floor opened - cutting off his flustered protest. In less than two heartbeats, she could make out the sounds of steps unwittingly approaching them. She turned, prepared to glare at anyone who dared to make this situation any worse. But, upon recognition, her glare quickly shifted into a smile instead. Out of all the students to encounter in this moment, John Drake was one of the better options.

 

"John, would you be so kind as to inform Mrs. Butte that Mr. Carson will not be coming in to teach today? She should be in 402."

 

"What do you mean 'Mr. Carson will not be coming in to- to - to teach today'?" Came the gruff response that trailed off as she shot him the glare originally intended for the students unfortunate enough to cross their paths.

 

Let's just say that John was not deterred in the slightest when it came to listening to the command- request of his choir teacher.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." Elsie nodded her thanks, knowing that she didn't have to warn the baritone not to say anything about this. After a moment of readjusting her hold, she continued up to drag her friend the stairs.

 

"Mr. Carson, you're not fit to be here if you can hardly stand." He began to protest again, but she sent him a look that shut him up immediately. "But, seeing as how we're already only one flight of steps away, there's no point in forcing you back down the stairs just yet." It was true that he really couldn't stand: Charles had unintentionally started leaning on Elsie since they had past the second floor.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I don't wish to come off as impertinent, but surely I am the best judge of my health?"

 

"Mr. Carson, if you're falling over just from climbing the stairs, you're hardly in a position to argue with me." She opened the door to the second fourth floor with surprising ability - seeing as how she literally had her hands full.

 

The good news was that Charles was beginning to cave into Elsie's unspoken request to let her take care of him. This was evident as he had started to let her carry his weight instead of feigning good health.

 

The bad news was that their current position really didn't contain neither propriety nor decorum. And, soon, there would be several teenage boys coming up those same steps to class. 

 

Fortunately, the hall was empty as she guided him into one of the practice rooms across the way from 402.

 

"Now, I know there isn't a couch for you to rest on here," She guided him to the closest practice room that also contained a decent chair to sit in. "But, you need to catch your breath and this is the only option other than the floor."

 

Charles shuddered at the idea of laying out in an undignified heap on the floor, just as Elsie knew he would. She opened the door, having him temporarily lean against the wall before doing so.

 

"No, that is definitely  _not_ an option, Mrs. Hughes." She smiled once more, pleased at the implication that he was actually willing to sit down in the first place. She then guided him off the wall and into the room, sliding him down into the only chair in the space. Throughout the process, she took note of the paleness that had never really gone away during this entire interaction. That, and the fact that he seemed to be a bit warmer than she'd like.

 

In short, Mr. Carson would be not be teaching today.

 

And if he even thought of attempting as such... well, he would soon be finding himself understanding just why that was a stupid idea.

 

"Yes, well, I'll be back before you know it."

 

Of that, he could be absolutely sure.

 

**_._**

 

Gladys Denker was always one for a bit of fun, for a bit snark, and for a bit of passing around rumors as she ever so sweetly helped her fellow students remain aware of everything in their academy.

 

Of course, in order to help them that meant that she always needed to keep a careful eye on everyone - students, teachers, authority figures, etc.

 

For example,

 

"Now, students," She watched Mrs. Hughes begin to direct the choir same as normal. Or, at least that's it appeared. Yet, because Gladys had the foresight to closely watch her teacher, she could see the subtle signs that something was not right with the woman.

 

Having been watching Mrs. Hughes for the last semester, she knew her teacher's habits fairly well. The woman would occasionally want to bite her lip when they weren't quite getting the music, her hands would falter slightly if the harmonies weren't as good as normal, she straightened up when she was ready to lecture them or when Mr. Carson was making a remark, and more.

 

Still, Elsie tended to try to maintain a level of acceptance and calm even when she wasn't happy with them. And while Gladys didn't necessarily believe that this was the way to interact with the world, the alto had long since accepted that this was the way Mrs. Hughes worked.

 

But, here's the funny thing. More than once within the last forty minutes, her choir teacher had been a bit sharper than normal with everyone. She'd been particularly demanding on certain parts of their songs, to the point where a lecture appeared to occur every couple of minutes.

 

And that wasn't the only peculiarity:

 

Every couple of minutes, when everyone was supposed to staring at their sheet music and singing along with the piano, Gladys caught her teacher glancing in the direction of the exit as though she were concerned about something.

 

_How fascinating._

 

Naturally, this was a situation that she needed to explore. After all, what if there was something wrong within the building that required everyone's immediate departure? Or, what if Mrs. Hughes was withholding a secret that the students should know about?

 

Gladys felt it was only her duty to investigate and report any hints of news to her peers, just so as to make sure everyone was made aware of all the information they ought to.

 

However, Mrs. Hughes's glances at the exit aside, there was something else that just as interesting.

 

Mrs. Butte was a teacher that Gladys rarely had to deal with when she had been in the Treble Choir last year. It's true that the woman had been in charge of the Treble Choir at the time, but neither of them ever had cause to have many conversations. Though, just like Mrs. Hughes, that didn't mean the alto hadn't been carefully observing her as well.

 

And, underneath what always seemed to be a sweet, if somewhat apathetically perfectionist demeanor, something had changed within the teacher since she'd returned to the school.

 

Something that seemed to grow little by little every time Mrs. Butte looked at Mrs. Hughes.

 

_Oh, I do believe we're in for an interesting time this semester._ Came the gleeful thought.

 

And, whenever this interesting time decided to occur, Gladys would be there to thoroughly enjoy it.

 

_._

 

"Will Mr. Carson be out for the rest of the semester, Mrs. Hughes? Like Mrs. Butte was?" The tenor sounded just a little too hopeful in her opinion.

 

"No, he will not, Jimmy." Mrs. Hughes responded. "He should be back by next week at the latest."

 

_If he actually rests, that is._

 

"If Mr. Carson doesn't recover by then, will class be cancelled until he does?" Once again, the young man was carrying far too much optimism. "It just wouldn't be right to continue rehearsing if he's unable to tell us the direction he'd want us to go in."

 

"I'm sure Mr. Carson would be the first to say otherwise." Mrs. Butte's voice contained a hint of steel underneath what sounded like a sugary response. And with that response Mrs. Hughes caught something in the reaction of the students before - something that she had not seen in the previous semester. But it wasn't something she had time to decipher. "We will be passing out more music today."

 

"Joy," She heard the faint muttering come from the back, most likely from O'Brien. However, before Elsie could say anything in response, it was already being taken care of.

 

"Did you have something you wanted to share with the rest of the class, Sarah?"

 

"No, Mrs. Butte." It was the meekest reply she'd ever heard from the alto. It certainly didn't contain any of the attitude that the voice teacher was used to catching.

 

And, Elsie didn't know how she felt about that.

 

"Good. Now, seeing as how you should be working on all your songs during your own time, we shall not focus solely on 'Set Me As A Seal Today' today. Instead, I'd like you all to take out 'Vox Populi'. That will be our second song for the competition."

 

_Surely we could at least review "Set Me As A Seal" before moving on?_ Elsie wanted to ask, a little concerned that they weren't at least briefly looking it over before they worked on another song. But, the students were already flipping to the appropriate sheet music. And, Emma had suggested working on "Vox Populi" today so as to give Elsie time to check in on and take care of their director.

 

So she could hardly challenge the decision, even if she didn't like the timing.

 

But speaking of timing, if "Vox Populi" was already being brought up then it was time for her colleague to make her request, just as they had planned in between classes. Seeing as how none of the Advanced students knew that Mr. Carson was here, it certainly wouldn't be necessary to concern the singers with that fact. Nor would it be a good idea to mention that he was not only here, he was also passed out in a practice room less than twenty meters away.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," The choir teacher spoke up, almost as though she'd read the other woman's thoughts. "Seeing as how this is an  _a cappella_ piece," The students brightened considerably, not that either teacher was paying much attention. "Would you be so kind as to run that errand we discussed earlier?"

 

Elsie nodded, not really looking at the students now that her thoughts were returning to concern about her colleague. She truly was worried for him - to the point where she missed the tension within the classroom that was brought on by Mrs. Butte's request.

 

"I do believe now is as good a time as any." She hardly felt the urge to remind them all to be on their best manners with Emma - this was the school's most advanced choir, after all. They knew what they were doing.

 

"Perfect." Mrs. Butte said, a pleasant smile fixing itself upon her face. "Well, we would hate to keep you from such an important task."

 

"Quite right." Mrs. Hughes vaguely agreed, hoping that Mr. Carson's condition hadn't worsened since she last checked. She was also hoping that she wouldn't find him on the floor - having woken up and made an attempt to drag himself back into 402. And, so, with a renewed purpose Elsie turned on her heels and briskly started heading for the door.

 

Though, as she left, the atmosphere shifted into something a little more unpleasant. Elsie attributed this to her own concerns, but she did take note of it in any case.

 

After all, she was never one for an atmosphere.

 

Little did she know, that atmosphere was not one of her imagination.

 

And furthermore, that atmosphere would only slowly be getting worse.

 

_._

 

After the door had closed, Emma's smile had turned bitter as she turned to face her choir.

 

"Do I need to remind you of our little rules we've discussed?" That there would be no talking back, that they would listen to her and follow her instruction to the letter. That if they did not learn their music within the appropriate time, they would not be allowed to compete let along sing at the concert.

 

And that, since she of course ran these rules by Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, there would be severe consequences for not following her instruction.

 

They were, of course, the best singers in the school. That gave them the right to be held to the highest standards possible in her book.

 

And with both of her colleagues soon heading out of the building, she simply had to maintain those standards.

 

_._

 

He had been resting his head on the wall when she had returned, having woken up at some point.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" Fortunately, Charles didn't seem to be any worse than when Elsie had last checked on him. And that did make it a bit easier to concentrate and continue on with the situation.

 

"How do you feel, Mr. Carson?" He could only look at her, looking absolutely miserable, giving her an answer without saying a word.

 

"I'm afraid that we've got to get you back home and the sooner the better."

 

He could only groan in response, dreading the idea of moving in general.

 

Elsie sighed once more, not wanting to move him just yet but also knowing that this was the best opportunity to usher him out. At this time, there'd be no students taking lunch and very few teachers would be occupying the halls for academics - lowering the possibility of unintentional embarrassment by a fair amount. Besides, she'd already run this plan by Emma before class had started. The woman had immediately agreed that this plan was for the best and that Elsie was to take as much time as she needed to get Mr. Carson home.

 

"Well, unfortunately, you won't get any better sitting here." He certainly wouldn't obtain any genuine rest if he stayed in that chair. "Do you think you can stand?"

 

Though, whether he could or not, she'd be there to catch him.

 

"I think so, yes."

 

"Do you need a hand-" But he was already pushing himself up, managing to remain on his feet without any support.

 

For about three seconds, that is.

 

"Mr. Carson!" It was a little difficult to suddenly take hold of him as he began to plummet back towards the ground - seeing as how he was significantly larger than her and his weight was certainly not helping matters. Still, to avoid the both of them ending up sprawled out on top of each other on the floor, she'd certainly make this work.

 

Needless to say, it was not going to be easy.

 

_._

 

_A short while later_

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" Rose had crossed paths with the woman on the way to lunch, noting that the woman seemed far more tired than she had during the start of their rehearsal. And, if the young soprano was noticing it, that meant it was far more apparent than the woman would like. "Is everything alright?"

 

Initially, Rose was going to bring up the fact that Mrs. Butte's new rules didn't seem to match the normal expectations that Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson seemed to carry. But, with her teacher looking as though she'd just gone some sort of a Herculean task, it didn't seem fair to add to her plate right now with something.

 

"Perfectly fine," Elsie easily lied, not having the desire to concern her student. Taking Charles back home, when nobody was able to lend a car, meant that she had to practically carry him back to his home. And by the time she realized she could've called an Uber or an equivalent, she was close enough to his place of residence that she didn't want to bother with it. By that point in the journey, the whole ordeal had turned into a matter of pride.

 

"If you're sure," Rose said not really believing her and now wondering just what sort of errand Mrs. Butte sent her on.

 

"I am indeed."

 

They stood still for a moment, both observing each other.

 

And then Rose remembered one other little question she had for the woman.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Yes, Rose?"

 

"I would  _really_ like to sing compete by singing a solo this semester, if possible."

 

Elsie really should've known that that would be what the soprano would be requesting. Really, the older woman had witnessed Rose's exuberance when the solo opportunity had been announced.

 

"Of course. Come up to 403 after school finishes today, and we'll see what we can find."

 

_._

 

Normally, upon returning to the the second fourth floor, Elsie would be content to sit down and take it easy. However, after a morning like the one she's just had, Elsie decided that taking a break to visit the band room was more than acceptable.  

 

Besides, if she stayed in 402  _or_  403, some potential soloist would find her and she'd be back on her feet soon enough.

 

Once a note was posted on the door, informing any potential soloists to come back after-school if they intended on requesting a song, with a surge of stubbornness she found herself once more. And soon enough, her feet were bringing her down to the third floor and back up to the first floor fourth floor for the much needed respite.

 

To distract herself, because she'd not done this much walking in ages, she began to think about anything  _other_ than Mr. Carson's untimely flu, solos, Mr. Carson altogether, soloists, inappropriate thoughts involving Mr. Carson, and her thoughts about the choirs. Maybe Beryl would have something of interest for her that would help to distract-

 

"What on Earth is that?"

 

Beryl took one look at the box in question and snorted in disbelief.

 

"Confiscated it yesterday," Her dear friend began to explain, before cocking her head inquisitively. "You mean to tell me you've never heard of  _Cards Against Humanity_?"

 

"It rings a bell, but not one I've paid any mind to," Elsie confessed, taking a step towards the box of cards.

 

"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

 

"And just what is  _that_ supposed to mean?" Beryl smirked, hardly refraining from raising an eyebrow.

 

"It means that you're just as likely to have played the game as our esteemed Old Bat is to have heard of it!"

 

"Well," Elsie sharply inhaled at the challenge, knowing that she probably shouldn't even get involved with such an obvious ploy. "I never!"

 

But with the day she's been having, as well as the nagging feeling that something was wrong on the second fourth floor, she found herself more willing to be distracted for once.

 

"Go on then, I dare you." Beryl grabbed the game and brought them to her office. "Live a little for once."

 

Elsie paused at this, the words of choice bring back a fond memory from a few months back. But, Beryl was now opening the game and gesturing for her friend to get a move on.

 

And so she did.

 

_._

 

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't care for Mrs. Butte's new rules." Jane Moorsum grumbled to herself as she poked at another questionable lunch from the cafeteria.

 

"What do you mean, her rules?" Lavinia Swire, a second soprano who only recently transferred into Downton, gracefully inquired. Being quite new to the school, she'd been surprised to already have a few friends to sit with - especially since it was only the first week.

 

"Did Mrs. Butte not give Bel Canto any rules to follow, Lavinia?" Edith asked.

 

"Well, she and Mrs. Hughes did list expectations for the semester."

 

"There you have it then," Jane darkly remarked.

 

"She does seem to have increased her standards since last year," Laura Edmunds remarked. Gwen Dawson, currently hailing from Bel Canto, turned the statement over in her mind - thinking it through when it came to her own choir.

 

"Well, our rehearsals in Bel Canto have been a bit harder. But since Mrs. Hughes is in charge, it's more fun than anything else. And Mrs. Butte has hardly said a word since the first day." Gwen briefly added.

 

"Aren't you the lucky ones--"

 

"Well, I don't care for much for her new attitude." Sybil declared, ignoring Jane's attitude. "I don't think that her being a teacher gives her the right to treat us in such a fashion - having these rules and expectations that strike me more as demeaning than anything else!"

 

"I agree." Tom said, "It's certainly not how Mrs. Hughes would have treated us if she had been in charge."

 

"Well, clearly Mrs. Hughes is not in charge." The eldest Crawley sister was beginning to lose her cool - having been hearing this conversation since the first rehearsal. "That little errand she was sent on today is proof enough. And, whether or not her attitude is 'nice', Mrs. Butte's intention revolve around preparing us for the competition. So, does it really matter how she treats us or what rules she has?"

 

"I for one think it does." Edith quickly retorted. Mary scoffed at this, unwilling to care about her sister's opinion. "What's your opinion, Matthew?"

 

The tenor in question paused, thinking his words carefully before he spoke.

 

"While I find her expectations to be harsh, I'm not convinced that there's been enough to warrant any reprimand -- especially if Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes agree with her standards."

 

"You see," Mary began to primly speak, but Matthew was not finished.

 

"However, I do believe there is cause for concern." He continued, "I have performed in several choirs before coming to Downton. While Mrs. Butte's behavior so far is still acceptable for a choir teacher, she reminds me of some previous teachers I can no longer respect or trust."

 

All in all, Mrs. Butte strongly symbolized many of the reasons he'd transferred into Downton in the first place: the previous school he had attended, one Carlisle Institute, was an academic organization where her competitive and possibly manipulative behavior would be considered the norm. And it was that norm that allowed teachers like Mrs. Butte to go far beyond what was acceptable or right when it came to their students.

 

"So, what do we do?" Gwen asked her fellow singer, wondering what his answer would be.

 

"Honestly, her behavior is hardly something that requires such attention." But, Mary's opinion was not going to be accepted as the correct belief - not this time. "And it's not like we haven't already improved thanks to her."

 

After all, today she had them all stand in their sections and sing. That would've been normal except for the fact that she walked up through each section, listening to every single voice as they went over their parts. Anyone who did not match the correct pitch after the first five minutes was to sit down and silently listen to the correct voices.

 

It made for quite a distinct learning session. And, the only reason it was still acceptable was because she did not insult anyone outright. Mrs. Butte merely gestured to them so as to signal it was time for them to be quiet, sit down and listen. And by the time that Mrs. Hughes had returned, everyone had messed up to the point of sitting down and facing the front in silence. 

 

"Well," Matthew thought about the matter once more as he responded. "We can't act yet. To outright rebel only gives her more reason to practice strict standards, to complain before there's legitimate proof will only further dismiss our claims."

 

"So, we do nothing." Tom retorted, not very pleased with this plan. Of course, he wouldn't be after today's rehearsal - Mrs. Butte was severely rigorous with the second sopranos today, observing their section the longest and making sure anyone who wasn't right was immediately silence. And even if Sybil had not been a second soprano, that sort of behavior would make Tom was even less of a fan of the woman than he already was. "We do nothing and we let her get away with this."

 

"Not quite," Matthew's tone contained an edge to it, uncharacteristic for the well-mannered tenor.

 

"What then?" Edith inquired. "If we don't report and we don't ignore it, what's left?"

 

"We take note of what's happening. We don't sweep anything under the rug. If she starts to go beyond what's appropriate, we don't brush it off and dismiss the matter altogether. And, we keep a careful watch on how she's treating  _all_ of the ensembles."

 

For Matthew suspected that Emma Butte could and would do a lot of damage to the other ensembles if left to her own devices. After all, who wanted to sing and let music be an outlet for life if it would only result in mocking criticism or caustic remarks? Who would want to subject themselves to such treatment if it left them feeling idiotic, hopeless, incompetent, and worse?

 

If they were a professional choir, one where perfection was paid for and was the expectation, it would be a different situation. But they were teenagers in a private academy, teenagers that just wanted to enjoy an enchanting part of life.

 

Therefore, the second that woman's "rules" or actions went beyond what would be deemed acceptable, Matthew would be ready to report it. Though, in order to make sure this did not result in Mrs. Butte eventually dismissing the matter, there were a steps that needed to be taken.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Edith had seen the note saying to revisit 403 if you were interested in a solo, and now she was doing as such. "Do you have a moment?"

 

"Edith," The older woman warmly greeted. "Are you also interested in a solo?"

 

That's when the second soprano realized that they were not the only people in 403. Jimmy, Rose, and a few others were sitting inside the room, all patiently waiting their turn.

 

"I could always come back," The student offered, taken aback by the situation she'd unintentionally interrupted.

 

"There's no need for that," Elsie said, "This won't take that long - I'm merely selecting the piece and making a quick copy to look over in your own time."

 

"If you insist," Came the weak response, as her teacher was already guiding her to a seat.

 

"I do indeed. Now, Rose, I believe you were here first."

 

_._

 

As the first soprano followed her teacher into the music library, Elsie was already narrowing down the list of possibilities. But, before she could select anything, she needed to see where her student was when it came to solo work.

 

"Have you sung a solo before?" Rose shook her head.

 

"Not at Downton. But, I have sung solos before and I've had a few private voice lessons." This didn't surprise the woman in the slightest, though it did help in giving her some idea of Rose's level of experience.

 

"And what languages have you sung solos in?"

 

"Primarily English, though I did have two songs in Spanish and one in German." Elsie nodded, immediately crossing those three languages off the mental list.

 

"In that case, since I do recall your basic range," Rose beamed at this, clearly excited. "I do believe I already have an idea."

 

French would be a nice little challenge for the first soprano. And this song in particular would be fun regardless of the version. 

 

She perused the books dedicated to soprano solos, debating between Fauré or Debussy. However, upon looking back the young woman, Debussy's arrangement seemed more fitting for her personality.

 

"Ah, yes, here it is." Elsie gazed down at the book fondly. While she did prefer Fauré's version, just looking at any version of "Mandoline" once again sparked pleasant memories.

 

"What's it about Mrs. Hughes?" Rose asked, peering over her shoulder in an effort to look at the song.

 

"The mandolin, of course." The first soprano was unfazed by this, eagerly continuing to look over the first page.

 

"It's quite pretty." Elsie nodded at this, able to agree on that.

 

"It certainly is. And I do believe you'll enjoy the end of the song, particularly." After all, how often did one have the chance to repeatedly sing "La" in a classical piece?

 

"You think so?" They began to head back in the direction of the copy machine, Rose now borrowing the book to sight read what she could.

 

"Yes." The older woman was quite firm in this, her gut feeling saying that Rose would fall in love with this song faster than she'd realize.

 

_._

 

Matthew trekked up to the second fourth floor with ease, Mary trailing curiously behind.

 

"I don't see why you find it necessary to do this." She remarked, still finding his behavior to be over-dramatic. Mrs. Butte wasn't torturing them or some ridiculous equivalent - she was only taking on her role in preparing them with as much vigor as possible.

 

And Mary wanted to win this competition. She wanted to know that she was apart of the best choir in the North of England -- not the UK.

 

So, if Mrs. Butte's strict standards were necessary, then so be it.

 

"I find it necessary to do this because I have witnessed this sort of occurrence before."

 

"Well, complaining to Mrs. Hughes isn't going to get you very far."

 

"That's not my intention." He already knew that. But, unlike Mary's beliefs, he recognized that it wouldn't get him far if only because they were still in the first week. And while Mrs. Butte's measures had atypically harsh - and he did see that this only occurred when she was the only one in the room - her measures still fell into a range that could be dismissed quite easily.

 

So, he wasn't going to complain or protest.

 

But, he was going to plant an idea. For, if he had learned anything at Carlisle Institute, it was that sometimes one needed to act more clever and complexly than they'd normally like.

 

Upon their arriving to 402, they glanced inside to see Mrs. Hughes and Rose conversing over a songbook.

 

"There, she's busy helping the soloists for the semester. Something I should be doing myself already,"

 

"If you'd like to wait in that queue, you are more than welcome to do so."

 

"I'd rather-" The door to 402 opened, "Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Hughes!"

 

"Good afternoon, Mary, Matthew. Were you interested in selecting a solo?"

 

"I'm afraid I don't have enough time this afternoon to do so," Mary replied around Matthew's, "Oh, I'm not interested in a solo, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"Are you sure?" The woman asked them both, now confused as to why they were paying her a visit.

 

"Quite sure." Matthew said, as Mary nodded in response. "Though, I do have a question."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes. It was just something I had been wondering about Mrs. Butte's rules-" He seemed to have caught note of the other soloists still waiting in 403, "But, judging from the people still waiting, I think it's best to ask at another time."

 

Speaking of, "Mrs. Hughes? Were you able to find a solo for Rose?"

 

Jimmy could almost always be relied upon to be outspoken when it suited him.

 

"I did indeed, Jimmy, I'll be just a minute." She turned back to Matthew, curious reflecting in her gaze. "While that may be for the best, you can be sure that I will not be forgetting that you had a question in the first place."

 

Matthew warmly smiled, having been counting on that.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." He turned to Mary. "Well, we ought to make sure we're not late."

 

"Indeed," Mary agreed, knowing that that was more of an excuse to leave and less because they actually had somewhere they needed to be.

 

The pair swiveled back to their professor, quickly wishing her good luck with the soloists as they started to leave the second fourth floor.

 

"And what was the purpose of that little exercise?" She asked Matthew, once they were back on the stairs. The soprano had her own ideas, of course, but felt like humoring the situation by asking instead of assuming.

 

But, Matthew didn't feel like explaining at this time - not when they could easily be overheard.

 

"You'll see." The tenor spoke with an uncharacteristically cryptic tone, somewhat amused by Mary's obvious irritation that she was not going to be made privy to his plan just yet.

 

_._

 

_"Mrs. Butte's rules"?_  The question came the second Matthew mentioned it. She couldn't recall her colleague mentioning any special rules that she'd be bringing up. And, seeing as how Emma had already left for the day, there wasn't a chance to ask her about it in person - at least, not before tomorrow.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm ready whenever you are." The young tenor said, walking up to her with a winning smile that continued to have absolutely no impact on the teacher.

 

"In that case, follow me." She instructed, shaking her thoughts away so as to concentrate on the task at hand.

 

With Matthew's distracting question set firmly aside, the pair entered 402. 

 

Interestingly enough, Elsie was looking forward to picking a solo for Jimmy. Though, perhaps it was less due to a fondness for the lad and more because she had full choice in deciding what he'd be singing. And, after several reminders that he'd be dropping by to select a solo, her patience was worn out to the point where she was very close to giving him something along the lines of "Largo Al Factotum" from The Barber of Seville.

 

Though, she wasn't that heartless if it was to be his first solo from her.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I do hope whatever you have in mind will be fitting for a tenor of my talent."

 

Or, maybe she  _was_ that heartless.

 

"I think I have something that just might be suitable." She dryly spoke, deciding that Rossini's aria wasn't quite what the situation called for.

 

But something from Handel could be quite appropriate.

 

"Tell me, Jimmy, have you performed solos before?" He nodded, basking in a prideful reminiscent.

 

"When you are a tenor like myself, you find many solo opportunities in life."

 

Handel it would be then.

 

_._

 

After she'd exercised her patience with Jimmy and the two students that had followed, there was only one person left to help today.

 

"Edith, thank you so much for your patience." The second soprano looked up from studying the floor, a faint smile making its way onto her face at Elsie's arrival.

 

"Thank you for this opportunity." She responded. The older woman gave her own beam in response, pleased that the younger woman was giving this a shot even after what had happened with her solo audition in the last semester.

 

"You're welcome. Shall we go find you a solo, then?"

 

Edith gracefully rose to her feet, elegantly following Elsie and reminding her teacher that she was indeed a Crawley.

 

_But,_ the older woman thought to herself,  _she isn't quite like her sisters._

 

With that in mind, the choir teacher returned to the music library for the final time that afternoon, her student trailing closely.

 

"Have you sung a solo before, Edith?"

 

"No, actually." The second soprano confessed, "Mary certainly has, and I think even Sybil has taken the time to learn one or two. But - well, I didn't think solos were for me."

 

"Well, I believe that everyone should at least try."

 

Seeing as how she had never sung one before, they certainly didn't need to delve into a foreign language. And, taking into consideration the young woman's range, Elsie already had an idea for something that would encourage her to step out of her comfort zone. Within minutes, she had found the book once more, opening it and flipping it to the appropriate page.

 

"'The Lass from the Low Countree'?" Edith asked, unsure herself.

 

"I think you'll find it to be a beautiful piece." Elsie responded, bringing them back towards the copy machine. "At the very least, I'd like to make a copy of it for you to look over in your spare time."

 

She could feel the younger woman's hesitation as they walked back. But, Edith was intrigued enough that the younger woman was willing to try it out.

 

And that is all that Elsie would ask for.

 

_._

 

For once, Thomas was waiting for Andy after school - not Sarah.

 

And furthermore, unlike the alto, Andy was taking his sweet time. They were supposed to meet up a few minutes after the end of the school day, but a few minutes apparently translates into half an hour.

 

Either way, it wasn't like he was going to reject his fellow singer - not when it was the first time someone other than Sarah was willing to hang out. It seemed that this year Andy needed some help if he wanted to pass his English classes. And when Thomas discovered as such the older teen had immediately offered his services.

 

Fortunately, the younger teen had accepted. The only condition being that they brought this up to no one - for fear of embarrassment, if anything.

 

"Mr. Carson," Thomas froze at the crossed sound of his choir teacher, "If you even think of coming back to school tomorrow when you still sound like  _that_ , I'll have you know,"

 

The woman swept past him - oblivious to everything other than her conversation. And with such a window of opportunity, he couldn't help but continue to unashamedly overhear the conversation.

 

"And don't even think of trying to wheedle another report about the choirs until you've actually recovered!"

 

Honestly, listening to this interaction merely brought back thoughts from the previous semester. Thoughts about how his teachers were quite possibly seeing each other in secret.

 

At the very least, it was clear that the two liked each other.

 

The level of that liking, though, that was unknown.

 

Either way, there was something else about Mrs. Hughes that See, there was something that was different about Mrs. Hughes, something that was subtle but also obvious. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was, and that had been bothering him ever since the start of the semester.

 

Of course, speaking of differences, Mrs. Butte certainly seemed to be on the war path these days. While he had never cared for the woman before, having seen through her facade immediately, he did realize that she had taken to returning to her post with a vengeance.

 

It did make sense. Why would Mrs. Butte, being the person that she is, be happy about the fact that Mrs. Hughes was staying on to continue helping the choirs?

 

"Thomas?" Andy seemingly popped out of nowhere, not that the older teen really minded. "I'm so sorry I'm late - where'd you want to go do this?"

 

He took the interruption to his thoughts in stride, turning to the younger singer with ease.

 

"I was thinking we could use one of the study rooms in the library - nobody goes there these days."

 

Andy nodded, content to go along with Thomas's plan and walk back to the school's library in silence.

 

Still, even though the two started to talk about the study plan for the afternoon, the baritone couldn't help but still wonder about his choir teachers.

 

He suspected that things were going to get worse for the Advanced Mixed Choir, seeing as Mrs. Butte was putting all her energy into perfecting them. Which meant there'd be more tension and pressure and exacting standards to mould them as best as she could.

 

Honestly though, Thomas found he didn't really care. It helped him as a singer to have such a demanding teacher. And it was beyond hilarious watching Tom and Sybil and the others get upset with the woman's demands.

 

So, other than that, how could Mrs. Butte really impact him?

 

Little did the baritone know, for all that he believed he though he could predict, he actually knew nothing about what would soon be happening.

 

For it seemed that the future would have quite a lot in store for the choirs of Downton Academy.

 

And no one was going to be avoiding that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matthew is correct in believing that Mrs. Butte is not to be trusted. And, though only the students seem to be picking up her behavior, that's not going to remain the case. Mr. Carson can't catch anything in his condition, Mrs. Hughes has put too much on her plate for the time being, and Mrs. Butte is highly willing to take advantage of this. But, as I said before, that's definitely not going to always be the case.
> 
> Also, for those who are still curious about Cora's email and her request to meet with Mr. Carson, there will be answers in the next chapter.


	3. Toasters and Telephones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased to say that I'm back! And, I'm equally pleased to say that, though this does progress the plot it also serves as a little fluffy treat for waiting so long! I think the title itself is evidence enough of that.
> 
> Now I must fair warn: I mistakenly thought this was the chapter where you'd find out what Cora wanted to meet about. That's actually the next chapter - though you certainly get a proper hint within this one.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy the next installment!

Had you informed the singers of Downton Academy that they would be looking forward to the return of their esteemed choir director after his bout of flu, many would have laughed at you and declared you outright insane.

 

Of course, this reaction no longer reflected the reality of the situation now that Emma Butte had returned to the institution.

 

"Mr. Carson's back!" The whispers began to erupt as singers who had come to school early were furiously texting and talking to anyone and everyone who'd understand. Some singers were even bold enough to step up to their director as express how nice it was to see him again and how they missed him - much to his imminent confusion.

 

It's true: he'd never received quite a warm welcoming upon returning from a short period of absence. Typically, students would have blanched upon seeing him return to school, as well as a host of other not-quite-complementary actions.

 

And while this was a nice change in pace, Charles couldn't help but wonder just what brought it about.

 

Though, even if he gave the matter serious thought he wouldn't have come to an accurate conclusion. He wouldn't have taken into account that, with his additional presence on the second fourth floor, there'd be at least two choir teachers at every rehearsal at all times.

 

The implications of that fact, that no choir would be left alone with Emma Butte, would've been lost on him.

 

Now, there was another factor in why Mr. Carson would never truly understand his students' happiness - that would be because he was still not back to his normal standards. It had taken the choir director much longer than he'd anticipated to recover - he was only in sufficient enough health come Thursday.

 

But, once he had sufficiently recovered from his illness, he declared himself ready to return - much to Mrs. Hughes exasperated, "I'm not quite sure that's necessary, Mr. Carson. Mrs. Butte and I still have the situation well in hand. In fact, the students seemed more well-behaved with your absence!"

 

He had, of course, responded with, "Mrs. Hughes, I can assure you that my returning is absolutely vital. Good behavior or not, we cannot continue to neglect the direction they need to take - the direction only I can provide for them."

 

Charles had pretended to ignore the tinny scoff he'd heard over the phone at the time. Instead, he chose to inform her that he would be arriving at the school within a short while and that he was looking forward to seeing her - and the choirs, of course - once more.

 

Surprisingly enough, even with her frustration he found that Elsie held a similar sentiment.

 

In any case, upon returning to the school, Charles found himself rather appreciating every aspect of being back far more than normal. The students' unexpected enthusiasm upon seeing him, the multiple flights of stairs he'd get to climb again, even the knowledge that he'd have to deal with 206 teenagers for a whole day sounded quite sublime.

 

Yes, it was true that every aspect of returning was rather delightful.

 

Every aspect, that is, except for the new contraption that being grandly shown off in 403.

 

"What in God's name is it?" He found himself asking once Elsie took the thing out of its container. Emma had long since stepped out with Jane for lunch to reconnect with the orchestra director, leaving the two of them alone on the second fourth floor.

 

And, now that his friend had a moment to herself, it seemed she was intent on bringing further chaos into the building.

 

"Surely you know what a toaster is, Mr. Carson," She briefly smiled at the object before glancing back at him in faint displeasure. "And surely you also know that there's nothing of the kind in that  _thing_ we call a cafeteria downstairs!"

 

"Be that as it may, we are  _not_ allowed to have such contraband within the building."

 

"I already checked with Isobel," The administrator in question had applauded Elsie and mentioned to her that she'd be making future visits to the second fourth floor so as to inspect the invention properly. "And it's perfectly acceptable. The only problem it could cause is the smoke setting off the fire alarm - and that's only if it's been left alone for too long."

 

He stiffened at the idea - appalled at the mere idea that the whole building would be evacuated because that  _thing_ had been left unattended.

 

Hardly worth the investment, in his opinion.

 

"And," The choir teacher continued, "If it's any good, I'm going to suggest getting one for the cafeteria, seeing as how we don't have a 'Green Room'."

 

_We hardly require a Green Room, Mrs. Hughes._ And he certainly was not going to encourage this contraption's continued existence by mentioning that the students were sure to accidentally set off the fire alarm if such a thing were in the cafeteria.

 

"Is it not enough that we are already inordinately behind in our choir studies this semester, Mrs. Hughes?" He looked so affronted it was almost ridiculous. The nerve of bringing such a distracting device to his domain was beyond preposterous for the man.

 

"Well, I had thought it would be a nice little present for-" But, Charles was caught in his own world, not hearing a word she said.

 

"Could you not have spared me  _that_?" And with that, he began haughtily to walk back to his own classroom with as much dignity as he could muster.

 

Now, normally, Elsie wouldn't have given his response any thought. But, this had been her New Year's present to herself, one that she had been waiting to open ever since it arrived this morning.

 

And she was not interested in letting his poor attitude ruin the sentiment nor the appeal.

 

"Well, if  _you_ ever want a change from what they call 'toast' in the cafeteria, you know where to find it!"

 

The choir teacher really was not in the mood to have what was going to be a wonderful innovation be dismissed as stupid or foolish. As such, she felt perfectly justified in airing her next comment towards the vicinity of 402.

 

"I bet you're the type of person who doesn't care for teabags, let alone telephones!"

 

But, what Elsie had been banking on was the walls being thick enough to muffle her vexed remark.

 

"I'll have you know that you are quite correct!" Came an equally indignant response from 402, causing her to scowl and mutter a few choice words in response.

 

_Well, then!_ The eventual thought had her turning back to her little present, studying it quite carefully.

 

However, it seemed Elsie was not to have a moment to herself. For it had not been even two minutes before the door to 403 was being knocked on.

 

"Yes?" She sharply asked, not in the mood for her colleague's current attitude.

 

But, much to a growing sheepishness, the door opened to reveal Anna Smith.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Anna, what can I do for you?" The younger lady paused a moment, not quite hesitant but also not quite forthcoming in her question.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I'd been wondering if I could sing a solo this semester." The choir teacher did not sigh at the unending requests - why should she, when she was the one who encouraged it in the first place?

 

"Of course." It just was a little tiring at some points. "I'll just need one moment."

 

Besides, because of Anna's well-meaning request it seemed time to call it a day when it comes to trying to enjoy her little gift. Though, seeing as how Elsie had been just a few seconds from making herself toast, it was with an air of frustration that she began to unplug the machine-

 

Until a thought came to mind.

 

"Before we find a song, Anna, I'd like you to come with me." She unplugged the machine, carrying it as her student followed unquestioningly. "And then we'll be sure to find you a solo."

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

 

_._

 

Charles had been enjoying the little peace and quiet that was afforded to him upon returning to 402 once more. It was far rarer in the spring to enjoy solitude at a given moment - what with the concert, the choir competition, and the solo competition all less than three months away.

 

He'd just been closing his eyes to rest them for a second when the door was loudly opened.

 

"Oh, Mr. Carson," If Elsie had been intent on giving him a fright, she very much succeeded. "Would you be so kind as to look after this for a moment?"

 

She proceeded to deposit the toaster on his desk, plug it into the wall, insert two pieces of bread into the machine, turn it to what would hopefully be a good level, and gestured for Anna to follow her towards their little music library.

 

He spluttered, a scandalized protest on his lips.

 

"Thank you so much for your assistance in this matter, Mr. Carson - this department wouldn't be able to run without you!" Elsie said with a cheek to her tone, her back to him as she headed towards her books.

 

_The nerve-!_ Her audacity was astonishing. To the point where he'd normally be glowering at her by now and beginning to remark that it was not his toaster that had been placed upon his desk. However, with a student in the room he had to settle for only crossing his arms, silently remarking on the impertinence of the situation, and glaring at her from the back.

 

Though after a few moments, the irritation faded into something else. And, after a further few more seconds, the glare hesitantly shifted into something resembling a curious look. He hadn't really paid attention to Mrs. Hughes whenever she had walked in front of him in the past. But now that there was an opportunity to take note, he had to admit that there was something to be said for her physical qualities from this angle. Something that made it surprisingly easy to let go of his frustration and pay attention to appreciating this unexpected knowledge.

 

Though, once he realized just what he'd been thinking-

 

The phone on his desk sharply rang, demanding Charles's attention. Without a second's notice, he jolted in his chair - caught off guard by both the shrill tone, the fact that someone was actually calling him, and the realization that his thoughts had just occupied a space he'd never expected. This in combination with the fact that he really wasn't fully recovered from his flu had caused the man to tumble out of his chair and onto the floor, the phone still raucously announcing there was a call waiting for him.

 

"Mr. Carson?" They were still over in the shelves, looking over music. "Are you quite alright?"

 

"Perfectly fine!" He managed to get that out without too much gruffness, scrambling to get back into the chair, picking up the receiver with haste, and unwittingly entering the conversation with an atypical  _forte_ for his volume. "Hello? To whom am I speaking?"

 

" _There's no need for such a tone!_ The woman over the phone retorted, taken aback by his unintentionally loud voice. " _Who are you, anyway, to shout at me like that?!"_

 

"I'm not shouting!" He could hear giggles in the background, scowling further at this as he reigned his dynamic level back into a higher pitched  _mezzo-piano_. "Who are you?"

 

" _Mrs. Gaunt."_

 

"Oh, Mrs. Gaunt." One of administrators he never had the fortune of interacting with, he'd rather send off the woman away with a  _staccato_ -like tone. "And just why were you calling the choir rooms?"

 

" _The choir rooms? Why would I need to be calling the choir rooms?"_

 

"Do you mean to tell me that you didn't intend to call the choir rooms? That you weren't aspiring to request the presence of any of the choir staff or students?" Irritation was returning to mix further with ruffling edginess, bringing a heat to his cheeks and a narrowed look to his eyes as his voice picked up the speed of a brisk  _moderato_.

 

" _Why should I do such a thing?"_ His scowl grew, vexation and embarrassment mixing into a frustrating, flustering combination.

 

"Mr. Carson,"

 

"One moment, Mrs. Hughes." He nearly snapped at  _sotto voce_ that still reached his friend. Clearly, he was no longer in the mood to converse with Mrs. Gaunt right now - though, he hadn't been in the mood from the start. "What do you mean, 'Why should I do such a thing'?"

 

" _That's exactly what I mean, sir! And, who are you to be giving me such an attitude!"_

 

"I am the choir director of Downton Academy! That's who I am!" And with more force than needed, he firmly slapped the receiver back down. With a huff, he sat back in his chair, his vexation dissipating as it became evidence that he was pleased with himself. He'd have to apologize to Mrs. Gaunt later, of course. But, in this moment he was still quite pleased with the fact that he had been the one to hang up first for once.

 

"Mr. Carson,"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Why does it smell like something's burning?"

 

_._

 

There had been no explanation as to why the fire alarm had gone off in the middle of the day. No reason given as to why everyone had to evacuate the building because something was apparently burning. The cafeteria appeared to be functioning with its normal questionable creations, the administrator's secret breakroom held no contraband that would cause such a thing, none of the more deviant students were trying to escape an excruciating exam, etc.

 

The only hint that there had been a cause for said fire alarm was a caustic conversation echoing through a certain stairwell:

 

"You should be thankful the music library was not damaged!"

 

"Me? You were the one who left the toaster unattended!"

 

" _I_  put  _you_ in charge of the toaster! And, speaking of, you owe me a new toaster, Mr. Carson!"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I know this isn't the best time, but between 'Cloud-Shadows' and 'Loveliest of Trees'-"

 

"Not now, Anna!"

 

_._

 

It had taken a little over an hour for 403 to no longer resemble Eau de Burnt Toast. And, luckily, the students were none the wiser when it came to asking just why the room smelt as such.

 

Still, that meant that the final rehearsal of the day - the Beginner Female Choir - was out of luck when it came to the patience of their teachers.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson," Mrs. Butte began to comment, as the beginning girls were still entering the room. "Perhaps you should continue grading in one of the practice rooms?"

 

Seeing as how his presence wasn't required for this rehearsal, she hardly felt her colleague needed to worsen what looked to be a headache by grading music theory homework in a room soon to be filled with fifty female teenagers who were still learning how to effectively sing.

 

She had her other reasons, of course. But, say what you would about her, she did feel a loyalty to and camaraderie with the choir director. This has been their battleground for several years, after all.

 

"Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Butte." It was a testament to how worn out he was becoming when Charles acquiesced with hardly an argument.

 

It was also proof for Elsie that the two teachers had quite a different relationship than the one she held with her friend.

 

And, oddly enough, that was uncomfortable proof to acknowledge.

 

_._

 

"Ladies," Elsie was very close to giving them a lecture that went far beyond "stern". For they just would not stop chattering amongst themselves, no matter what she said or did. You'd think that the fact that Mr. Carson had returned to school meant that there'd be a respectful silence, whether he was in the room or not. However, it seemed that even the idea of his return couldn't quiet down the young ladies today. "Surely you can refrain from conversing for the next twenty minutes?"

 

That's all they had to do. Just stop talking for the next twenty minutes. That's it. That's all she was asking for. That's all she needed them to do and then she could dismiss them, pack up her possessions, sprauchle down the stairs, traipse towards home, collapse in her bed and ignore the world for as long as possible.

 

Because that's the kind of day it's been.

 

And the Beginning Female Choir was  _not_ helping.

 

"Ladies," Elsie began for the fifth time that class period, "We can  _and will_  sit in absolute silence if you cannot focus!"

 

_._

 

Emma watched her colleague with faint amusement, pleased that the woman was revealing that she was not as perfect as she pretended to be. Her colleague was truly irritating at times in that regard, walking in as though she were a flawless performer who could just replace anyone at any given moment. Acting as though everyone should obey her every word because she just so happens to have a career that wasn't spent in a classroom.

 

From the moment they'd met, Emma knew that Elsie was one of 'those' performers - the ones who acted kind, who knew their music well enough to get far in life, and who then proceeded to parade around with a holier-than-thou attitude as they "unintentionally" reminded others of their famed career.

 

Well, Emma and Mr. Carson had been managing perfectly well before "Mrs. Hughes" decided to arrive and take over the show with her " _a cappella_ efforts".

 

So, needless to say, watching her dear coworker struggle to not lose her temper with the choir at hand was quite entertaining. Especially when the woman was now biting her lip and wringing her hands together in a manner rather unbecoming for a teacher. Such a situation had Emma almost convinced that she should add a little fire to flame in some fashion.

 

Of course, it wasn't the window of opportunity - and she really shouldn't push her luck, not just yet.

 

But, there'd be a chance soon enough to knock Elsie Hughes down a peg or two, that's for sure.

 

And when she'd be saying goodbye to the woman one last time, you can certainly bet that she'd be relishing it.

 

_._

 

Charles had been making his way back up the stairs - having needed to stretch his legs or risk falling asleep for the second time today marking papers - when she had finally bumped into him.

 

"Mr. Carson," Cora Crawley was rarely someone who actively sought out the choir director, especially when it wasn't after a successful concert. But this was indeed a rare time. "As you may have already seen, I recently sent you an email requesting to meet at some point."

 

He faintly tried to recall such an email. But, with the toaster, the fire alarm, his unusual thoughts about Mrs. Hughes as well as the fogginess that seemed to have overtaken him today, any email she'd sent him was not properly coming to mind.

 

"I believe I know which email you're speaking of," It wasn't quite a lie, though it wasn't the full truth. "Does it specify what we will be discussing, Mrs. Crawley?" His boss shook her head.

 

"I was only inquiring as to your availability. I was hoping we could save the actual discussion for the meeting itself."

 

"May I ask as to what we will be discussing?"

 

"You may ask at the meeting," Cora repeated, a little firmer this time. "However, I'm afraid it is not a discussion to be had here." She paused once more, thinking something through. "Are you be able to meet tomorrow?"

 

Charles refrained from inquiring any further - clearly, the matter was to be saved for a later discussion. Instead, he focused on recalling his schedule for tomorrow.

 

"Of course, Mrs. Crawley." He didn't like the enigmatic set-up, but he couldn't outright complain. Especially since there were very few subjects that Cora Crawley would refrain from publicly discussing. "What time did you have in mind?"

 

"How does nine o'clock sound?" While it was in the middle of the Bel Canto rehearsal, that was a rehearsal he was hardly needed for.

 

"Nine o'clock works perfectly, Mrs. Crawley."

 

"Excellent. In that case, I look forward to meeting with you tomorrow and I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Carson."

 

"And you as well, Mrs. Crawley."

 

The woman briefly smiled, letting him continue to slowly traverse up the stairs once more. Though, once she was safely out of sight, the slow  _andante_ shifted into a sluggish  _larghetto_. He even had to pause, taking a minute or two to breathe in and out.

 

Apparently, short walks were still not on the list of things he could reasonably do as of late. No matter - he had far more pressing matters to ponder.

 

_Now, what could all of that possibly be about?_

 

There were very few reasons why he'd have to meet with Mrs. Crawley. Certainly none that he could think of in such a setting.

 

The voice director could only that the administrator requesting his presence wasn't something involving finance. He'd heard a few rumors about Downton's monetary status as of late and let's just say that the rumors didn't bode well for the staff.

 

_._

 

"Heading back home already?" Mrs. Butte lightly asked, watching as the other woman was already packing up now that the Beginning Female Choir had left. In return for the question, Emma had received a stare that spoke of a very long and very tiring day.

 

_Oh dear, my poor sweet colleague has seemed to have suffered a bit today. What a pity._

 

"It's just been that sort of afternoon." The choir teacher vaguely replied, looking as though she didn't have the energy nor inclination to explain. She also looked equally grateful that her precious little  _a cappella_ wouldn't be rehearsing today.

 

But, then the woman did something somewhat interesting: she glanced over at Mr. Carson, who looked to be resting his head on the desk, and let her glance settle into a look of some kind. It wasn't quite concern or frustration, yet it also wasn't clear just what kind of a look it was.

 

Mrs. Butte observed the interaction for a few seconds, not sure of just what her least favorite colleague was currently thinking about when it came to their director. And she also wasn't sure she cared to know, to be quite honest.

 

Either way, Emma had been needing the toilet for quite some time. And now was as good as any to sneak out - lest she accidentally push the woman too much too soon. Naturally, she'd just hate to worsen her poor coworker's mood.

 

The choir teacher left the room, quietly closing the door and taking an unashamed delight when it reminiscing about seeing how defeated her vexing colleague currently seemed to be.

 

_What a pity, indeed._  The maliciously mirthful thought returned with glee.

 

_._

 

In retrospect, Elsie's actions this afternoon felt a little foolish - snipping at her friend over a toaster was certainly not her maturest move. Nor was placing the toaster in his care, knowing full well he had no lost love for it in the first place.

 

And though annoyance still ran through her veins, annoyance at his dismissal of her gift and his unintentionally disparaging remarks, that didn't mean she couldn't acknowledge that she had been in the wrong for at least part of the day.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie began, not really sure what to say but knowing that an apology was in order.

 

Charles, for once, had no response.

 

As to why had Charles no response?

 

Well, that would be because he was currently passed out, his head still resting upon his desk while his arms were drawn over some unusually tall stacks of graded assignments.

 

_You've come back too soon, you daft man._ She tiredly thought to herself not for the first time that day, knowing that she couldn't leave the school just yet. Not, without making up for earlier today - even if that meant she had to disturb his much-needed rest.

 

Annoyance dissipated into further concern as she continued to watch him for a moment. The man had seemed perfectly fine earlier, but she had caught traces of exhaustion - any lectures held a tired tone near the end of them, he'd sat down far more than normal, and his typical posture had subtly sunk into one dictated by weariness.

 

But, concern wouldn't get them anywhere. Nor would annoyance or irritation, for that matter.

 

Elsie gently laid a hand on his shoulder, making sure it couldn't be deemed an inappropriate touch if witnessed. She gave them a minute, lightly attempting to coax him back to a conscious state of being. And once her friend stirred from his little nap, she quietly stepped back and gave him a moment to wake up.

 

"Mr. Carson," She softly repeated, unintentionally letting the day's troubles color her voice.

 

This time, he definitely heard her.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Elsie didn't quite sigh, but there was a hushed heaving of tired air as she continued to look at him.

 

"I'm sorry for my actions earlier. It was frankly childish and unnecessary for me to behave in such a fashion." Charles looked up at her, concern and guilt flickering in his eyes as well.

 

"I must also apologize for my own behavior. It was unbefitting of the situation, to say the least."

 

With this, her worn-out attempt at a smile faded into a thin line of bemused humor.

 

"We're quite the fools, aren't we?"

 

"I wouldn't quite call us that. 'Foolish'? Perhaps at times, like many in society. But, 'fools'?" For a moment, he was caught in a memory of acting rather stupidly on the stage simply in order to advance his career. "Well, you are certainly not a fool. For myself,"

 

He trailed off into quiet and berating thoughts, now stuck in the recollections of a ridiculous past that clearly showed just how idiotic he could be. The Cheerful Charlies - his barbershop quartet that could now only be classified as outlandish and tastelessly garish. His first willing survey into the very genre of music he has frequently classified as a "scandalous attempt at sound".

 

"For yourself," Elsie continued, unwilling to let her friend remain trapped wherever his mind was holding him. "You are an admirable man who raises the level of excellence within these choirs simply by existing."

 

She held his questioning gaze, his eyes resembling that of someone who did not know where such praise was coming from and who also did not know if they were entirely deserving of such praise.

 

"So, I'll have no more of that, thank you." Elsie quietly requested, not quite in the best of places herself even as she continued to reassure her friend.

 

After another awkward minute of disconcerting silence, she decided it was for the best to just start turning towards the door and heading on her way. She could only hope her words had reached him, wherever he was.

 

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Carson."

 

She was almost gone when he finally found the courage to respond.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Elsie stopped in the doorway, her head turning back to him questioningly. "I must point out that you also 'raise the level of excellence' within this school 'simply by existing'.

 

Another weak smile came as he continued speaking, tired blue eyes gracefully accepting and hearing out his words.

 

"So much so, that I don't necessarily believe I have the right to ask the only question that's now coming to mind." She opened her mouth to remind him of the conversation they literally just had, but he raised a hand to stop her. "My hesitation is not about being utterly foolish, I promise.

 

"Rather, I don't feel I have the right because you've clearly had far longer of a day than I can imagine." Elsie didn't really believe that to be the case - seeing as how he's the one who fell asleep at his desk. However, she knew better than to dismiss the remark since it would only serve to delay his question.

 

"Well, now, you must ask me." The woman found herself able to teasingly remark, "I'm afraid I'm now too curious to let the matter rest."

 

He gave his own small smile at this, having learned quite well that Elsie really could be stubborn in her own right if she chose to be.

 

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me on a walk in a short while? It would be heading back towards our respective residences - I'd, of course, make sure there'd be no additional detours to add to your day."

 

He was a little too worn out to phrase it in a more eloquent style, having been occupied with thoughts about Cora's cryptic remarks as well as the toaster incident and everything else. The idea certainly could have been dressed up in a finer vocabulary in his opinion, one more deserving for the woman being asked.

 

But, Elsie didn't mind.

 

"That sounds quite wonderful - whether we encounter detours or not. I just need to make a note for anymore potential soloists before I do anything else," She had forgotten in her efforts to leave that she still had students who wanted to meet with her after-school. But, whether it was due to the toaster situation or her overall mood, she did not have the ability to do such a thing today.

 

Distractedly, the woman began to scrawl out a note telling any interested singers she'd be unavailable after school today. She left instructions to keep dropping by, or even mentioning their interest to her in class, as she continued to absentmindedly speak,

 

"After I've posted this, I'll be all yours."

 

The words were spoken without much thought.

 

But, once uttered, they gave the pair a lot to think about.

 

He pretended not to have heard it, his only hiccup in his actions being that of a minor jolt that he was quite thankful she didn't see. She herself busied her mind with posting the notice, furiously attempting to rid herself of the blush she was undoubtedly showing.

 

In short, whether or not either would acknowledge this, they'd both be repeatedly thinking about that little phrase for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally had to bring back the toaster - it's too precious not to. Though, alas, the toaster did not last nearly as long as it did in the show. Also! Who else knows that, in canon, Elsie would absolutely be bringing an electric toaster into their cottage?


	4. Spinning Thoughts and Ceaseless Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is time to discover just what Cora wants to meet about. And, as a heads up, that meeting isn't going to be sunshine and rainbows. And though the chapter has more than a touch of angst/drama, there is a hint of resolution by the end of it.
> 
> Also, I'm really not intending to write such lengthy chapters - it just keeps happening. If the length is at all a deterrent, please let me know and I'll see about breaking the chapters up into smaller segments.

Encountering Mrs. Patmore first thing in the morning was not something Mr. Carson typically cared for. It wasn't that he didn't like the woman's company or anything like that. Rather, it was that her attitude in the morning tended to be far more unfiltered than it was towards the middle of the day.

 

And on a day like today, with such an enigmatic meeting looming on the horizon, his nerves were already more frayed than he would've liked for such a conversation.

 

"Good morning, Mrs. Patmore. How are you today?"

 

"Fine." Came the grunt as they entered the building. Charles waited a moment, giving her a chance to ask the same of him. But she didn't honestly care. Wouldn't care until she'd had some coffee from Jane's Keurig - a gem of a machine hidden away in the woman's office.

 

"Are you looking forward to your concert this spring?"

 

"Yup." They still weren't at the part in this little journey where they'd be splitting paths. So, for the choir director it felt almost inappropriate to speed up or leave her company.

 

"Mrs. Hughes and I had actually been discussing the concerts on our walk yesterday-"

 

"Finally doing something about that, are you?"

 

"I beg your pardon?" But, the woman shook her head, rolling her eyes and scoffing.

 

"Never mind, Mr. Carson," She sharply pivoted on her heels, firmly taking her leave and leaving him behind. "Have a good day."

 

_Well, then._ He couldn't help but think to himself, bemused. Of course, there wasn't time to analyze such a conversation - not that he truly wanted to.

 

Simply put, the choir director was more than a little relieved he no longer had to converse with the woman. And he was certainly relieved the conversation had ceased once it involved implications about Elsie.

 

_._

 

"How are you settling in Mrs. Butte? I know we haven't had a chance to properly chat for quite some time, but I hope it's been an easy transition returning." Seeing as Elsie probably wouldn't be arriving for at least twenty more minutes, now seemed as good a time as any to catch up with his colleague.

 

Besides, any distraction from pondering Mrs. Patmore's earlier remark was a welcomed distraction. He really hadn't the foggiest as to what she'd been implying, only that it was something involving his friend as well as himself.

 

"I'd say this semester has going quite well, Mr. Carson." Emma smartly replied, busying herself with looking over her binder for the day. "Especially now that Mrs. Hughes is able to assist with the soloists and some of the choirs."

 

"That's excellent to hear, Mrs. Butte. And, yes, Mrs. Hughes has proven herself to be of great assistance with the department." He missed her look at this remark, a disdainful glance that spoke of the irritation that had started to crack her warm facade.

 

"Of course."

 

Emma let the conversation lapse into silence, having been planning this question ever since she first noticed a certain detail. Though, once she deemed a sufficient amount of time had passed, it was time to innocently ask just one teensy, little question.

 

"Mr. Carson, there is one I do have," He sharply looked up from his computer, not recalling the last time his colleague had had a question about anything.

 

"And I might have an answer." She faintly snorted at this almost teasing remark, not sure she could remember the last time he'd made a joke in her presence.

 

"I was just curious about -" Emma paused just as planned, her lips pursing in concern as her eyes shifted their focus away for a brief moment in uncharacteristic hesitation. "Well, I'm not sure it's my place to wonder such a thing."

 

Now his curiosity was genuinely piqued.

 

"What exactly is your question, Mrs. Butte?"

 

The choir teacher made sure to meet his concerned look with eyes that reflected coy curiosity, as she paused once more.

 

"It's just," Careful to not overdo the silence and frustrate Charles in the process, she began to speak, "Why does everyone refers to her as 'Mrs.' Hughes?"

 

Well, that had taken him by surprise.

 

"I'm sorry?" His gaze shifted into one of confusion, prompting her to continue.

 

"Well, it's just that I can't recall ever seeing her wear a ring." Emma pursed her lips once more, pretending to think the matter over, "Is it that she wears it as a necklace instead?"

 

He didn't necessarily know if it was entirely Emma's business to be privy to such knowledge. Surely a title of respect like "Mrs." didn't require such an interrogation?

 

Still, it was probably just harmless curiosity. No need to lecture his colleague on such matters.

 

"She had been married once." Charles found himself saying, now wondering himself as to if Elsie had indeed taken off that ring. Of course, like Emma suggested, it could be very possible that she was in fact wearing it as a necklace. "But he passed away for some time now."

 

Still, if it's true, why would Elsie desire to take off her ring after so many years?

 

"I see."

 

He nodded, already lost in his thoughts once more. With their walk only just yesterday, and that remark she'd made - "And then I'll be all yours." - with a nonchalant tone that contained a hint of something more….

 

Charles wanted to know why Emma had mentioned the matter. He also wanted to know why, if indeed, Elsie was no longer wearing her ring. Furthermore, he wanted to know what this all possibly meant for them. And, most importantly, he wanted to know if he could proceed with an idea that had been slowly starting to occupy his thoughts ever since a certain dance that had occured one late December evening.

 

Of course, that's not to say that she had removed the ring for his sake. Perhaps, Elsie found herself enamored with someone else. Or, simpler still, she may have deemed herself ready to move on in general when it came to this regard. It quite honestly could have nothing to do with him, all things considered.

 

In any case, he wanted to know all the same.

 

Though it just so happen that there were unfortunately more pressing matters to draw his attention to.

 

_**Mr. Carson,** _

 

_**I'm afraid that 9 o'clock is still the only time I'm available to meet. I do hope that isn't too much of an inconvenience for you, but we really must convene as soon as possible.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Cora Crawley** _

 

"Mrs. Butte, it seems I will have to step out during Bel Canto's rehearsal for a brief meeting. It shouldn't take terribly long, but it is a meeting that must occur."

 

Emma looked up at this, beyond curious about what that meant and rather disliking the fact that she couldn't read his computer screen from this angle. If this was a meeting that involved or impacted the choirs, she had every right to know about it - especially given how long she'd been working here.

 

"Is everything alright, Mr. Carson?" The inquisitive woman asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

"Why wouldn't it be?" With a tone like that, one where concern was seeping into every inch of his voice, why would she  _not_ be concerned?

 

_He's really quite an awful liar_ , Emma coldly remarked to herself as she pretended to busy herself with work.

 

Though, when it came to their interactions, that tended to be far more helpful than anything else.

 

_._

 

It is a universal truth that when one craves more time to anticipate the future, one receives even less time than desired.

 

_._

 

"Is Mr. Carson alright, Mrs. Hughes?" Ivy asked the woman, taking note of the fact that the choir director wasn't around.

 

"Mr. Carson is perfectly fine, Ivy," Elsie said, focusing on looking anywhere but the door Mr. Carson left. He had mentioned needing to step out, having said something about a meeting, but had refrained from mentioning much else. "He just needed to stepped out of the room for a moment - that's all."

 

Though she wondered how much that was really true. His demeanor upon exiting was a mask of trepidation filled with a stuffy air of "I'm perfectly alright, Mrs. Hughes, there is no need for concern. There is just a slight matter that I don't believe to be any consequence that I must attend to. And there's no apparent reason as to why I shan't be returning in just a few minutes."

 

_Hopeless liar,_ was her only thought as she watched her colleague head downstairs.

 

Though, whether that was a good or bad thing in this instance was still up for debate.

 

_._

 

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Carson." Cora Crawley had not been looking forward to this conversation ever since she was informed of the facts. But, as this was something that fell under one of her roles as an administrator, it was necessary for her to be the one to deliver such news.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Crawley." Charles still felt out of place sitting in such in office - as though he were being sent to the headmaster's office instead of meeting with a fellow staff member.

 

After he took the offered seat, they fell into a brief and awkward conversation - talking of such trivial matters such as the weather and other inane subjects that he really didn't care care about.

 

It was, without a shred of doubt, an avoidance tactic on both their ends. And, it was also an avoidance tactic that both individuals knew would not last forever.

 

Now, Charles was not one for small talk or trivialities.

 

However, once he heard the news…. Well, let's just say that he wished he'd indulged in it a little more.

 

_._

 

A perk that came with conducting meant that she could easily keep an eye on the clock in the back of the room.

 

An unfortunate side effect that also came with conducting was knowing it had been over twenty-five minutes since Charles had left.

 

_._

 

"Ms. Hughes," Elsie turned to her colleague at the piano, perplexed by the sound of her name. "Ms. Hughes, why have you stopped conducting?"

 

Elsie looked away from the clock only to discover she had about fifty pairs of eyes mercilessly staring her down - as though she were a terribly high note that they didn't want to sing but did want to observe in some capacity.

 

"My apologies," But, then Emma's exact words caught up with her and she spoke without thinking. "But, I am married, Mrs. Butte."

 

"Oh, I am terribly sorry," Her colleague's simpering words didn't truly penetrate the mist of disconcertion currently enveloping her, "But are you not in fact a widow?"

 

Well, that was a term Elsie hadn't used to describe herself in years. And, while she wasn't bowled over by the woman's seemingly innocent question, she was somewhat taken aback by the bluntness and the memories now flooding her senses.

 

No longer was her mind fully in 402. Rather, all she could see was glimpses of the graveyard blurring into floor. Looking down she distractedly thought not of her teaching apparel but what used to be her only black dress. And quickly glancing back up didn't help matters. The motion only served to convince her for a moment that she was back in the midst of dizzying funeral proceedings - proceedings interspersed with exhausting, unending performances as her music career began to screech to a halt.

 

And, furthermore, the disconcertion now charging through her was not the one that came from trying to direct 206 students over the course of what was proving to be a long morning, far from it.

 

Rather, it was the same inkling of nausea that accompanied the recognition that Joe would never be a part of her audiences ever again.

 

"Mrs. Butte," She couldn't help but gesture to their charges, pulling her mind out of those draining depths and trying to focus back on the task at hand. It was a disorienting recollection to suddenly experience, true. But she was not one to be overtaken by such sentiments, even when she felt this distracted and concerned. "I'm sure we can both agree that my marital status is not nearly as relevant as learning this material?"

 

"Of course, Ms. Hughes." Emma nodded, her hands flexed and prepared to play the piano once more. "My mistake."

 

_._

 

"I am quite sorry to tell you as such, Mr. Carson, but I'm afraid that it's true."

 

"But, we've never had this problem in the past. The choirs used to have several teachers, not just two."

 

"Let's just say,"

 

Cora was sympathetic, she truly was. She also just had a school to run - as well as helping the local hospital. Therefore, she couldn't afford to be more than sympathetic.

 

"Let's just say that Downton is going through a bit of a rough patch, financially. Simply put, we cannot afford more than two teachers for the choirs. And we really cannot afford to send you to Carnegie Hall in May - I am afraid that is far too costly."

 

"I understand, Mrs. Crawley." Though the choir director didn't like it one bit. Not in the slightest. "And, to be quite clear,  _I_ am to be making the final decision on this matter?"

 

"That is correct, Mr. Carson. With the situation being what it is, we felt it was best if you had the final say. Though, we will need to know by February 15th - so as to update the system before students begin to register for classes."

 

"Of course." He looked at her, recognizing the unspoken dismissal. "Well, thank you for informing me of the matter, Mrs. Crawley. Is there anything else I should be made aware of?"

 

"No." She faintly spoke, deep in thought. Though, as he began to take his leave, she did leave him one last remark.

 

"Mr. Carson,"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Crawley?" He turned, noticing the genuine discomfort reflecting in her eyes.

 

"I truly am quite sorry about this. When we had agreed to your original proposal for the choirs, we hadn't taken the budget into full consideration at the time."

 

Charles nodded, not really faulting her for this error. Rather, he was frustrated with himself: it figures that the one time in life he actually gave change a chance, it only led in more errors and misleading hope than he ever cared for.

 

Still, it would hardly fix anything to dwell on such matters. And, it would obviously not do to mope about the matter in the presence of one of his bosses.

 

"These things sometimes happen, Mrs. Crawley, regardless of what we may want. There is nothing to forgive in such a matter." It felt cheap to offer a placating remark that he didn't feel in the slightest. But, his comment did ease the guilt that taken over her. And that was worth the discomfort behind making it. "Good day to you, Mrs. Crawley."

 

"Good day to you, Mr. Carson."

 

As he left the room, the reality of the situation began to coldly grasp him. He had before him the task of informing his choir colleagues of two unpleasant matters. And while being unable to take the students to Carnegie would be quite an unfortunate announcement, it was relaying the second piece of news that he was really worried about.

 

Which led to the pressing question at hand: how was he supposed to choose between keeping Emma and Elsie at Downton - and have only a month to decide?

 

Emma was a colleague he'd been working for  _years_. At the very least, she was a woman he'd come to know fairly well, as well someone he liked to think of as a friend. She was sharp, smart and did not suffer fools gladly - especially when it came to singing. That was something he could respect, how seriously she took her work. How she wouldn't allow anything get in the way of vocal excellence if she could help it. And keeping her on would ensure such an attitude remained long after he'd inevitably be forced to retire.

 

On the other hand, to let go of Elsie... She was someone he'd only known for a very short period of time in comparison to Emma, true. But Elsie was someone he felt he'd also known for years. Someone he'd begun to believe would bring their choirs to an extraordinary level, someone he'd started to trust in general with all sorts of issues. And furthermore, Elsie was someone he'd been hoping to share much more than just a love of singing with.

 

All in all, this quite the mess.

 

But, worse still, there didn't seem to be any way around the decision as far as he could tell.

 

The entrance to the second fourth floor revealed itself as his mind continued to churn these thoughts over.

 

And, for the first time ever, Charles was loathed to enter it.

 

_._

 

"What do you mean we can't take them to Carnegie?" Elsie was more than a little upset about that bit of information as they continued discussing the meeting over lunch.

 

"Simply that the school cannot afford the airfare and all the additional costs that would come with Advanced Mixed traveling to Carnegie. And I'm afraid that's that - the deadline to register is only a few days away and we certainly won't be magically obtaining the money by then."

 

"But we just told the students otherwise, Mr. Carson!"

 

"If the school has said as such, Ms. Hughes, then the school has said as such! There's nothing more that we can do." Emma acerbically cut in, not in the mood for such an attitude. The choir director glanced at her, noticing the subtle change in how she addressed her colleague and realizing that this change bothered him more than the current conversation. "Honestly, they were not going to be ready in time for Carnegie - you both know that I as well as I."

 

Elsie refrained from glaring or responding to the rebuke, clinging to the typical respect that should be given to colleagues - especially colleagues who have worked hand-in-hand with Mr. Carson for several years.

 

Charles, on the other hand, refrained from remarking or acting in any fashion. To do so would only speed the conversation in a direction he'd rather avoid. Furthermore, he found himself surprisingly unable to care about Carnegie at the present moment. Rather, he could only hear Cora's voice repeatedly tell him that he had to choose between Elsie and Emma. That, and all the other thoughts that wouldn't stop pestering him since he'd arrive to the academy this morning.

 

"There's something else, isn't there?" Mrs. Butte quietly asked, already knowing the answer just from looking at his face.

 

The choir director initially refused to confirm this, not particularly happy that she had asked. He would have much rather held off from mentioning anything for at least a few more minutes, if not a whole lunch period.

 

But when Elsie's blue eyes also turned to him in confusion, stunning blue eyes that held an unusual form of uneasiness, he found that he couldn't withhold the news for much longer. That, much as he didn't want to see uneasiness turn into something far darker, he needed to inform them of the second piece of news.

 

"Mrs. Crawley also mentioned that," Charles paused, having wanted to prepare them in a different manner. Or, at least had more time to think his words through. "Mrs. Crawley also spoke of Downton's current financial situation requiring budget cuts in regards to the staff."

 

"Should I sell my next toaster then? Auction it off to the highest bidder in lieu of a paycheck?" Elsie asked dryly, though her face held no humor. Emma scoffed at the remark, turning to Charles in an imploring manner.

 

"Who has to leave, Mr. Carson?" He gave a start at this straightforward question, further startled as she rolled her eyes in a fashion that was unwittingly reminiscent of Elsie. Though after a moment it was clear that the action was similar, yes, but there were inherent differences. Differences he could recognize even within this discombobulating situation. "We all know someone has to leave when it comes to budget cuts."

 

With this remark the two women glanced at each other before turning to properly look at him, bracing themselves for whatever ill news he still had to give.

 

Emma's clear resolution to have dignity no matter the outcome was evident by her piercing gaze - a look that informed him that she was indeed prepared for whatever dreadful announcement was to be spoken. Elsie had chosen to straighten up within her seat, her eyes holding a silently stubborn attitude that seemed equally determined to come to terms with whatever was next - regardless of what it was.

 

"I can give you no answer as to who will be leaving, Mrs. Butte, because Mrs. Crawley has left that decision to me."

 

_Unfortunately._

 

This dreary frustration had thoroughly distracted him once more, taking Charles back to his reverie for yet another painstakingly long moment. And, unfortunately, had he continued to properly observe his colleagues, he would've found something that would have given him an inkling as to the correct choice in this matter.

 

Elsie's posture hadn't quite softened but it did ease up, her face taking on an air of concern as she watched her friend unintentionally reveal his own bewildering stress. The news was far more than disheartening - the implication that she might have to leave Downton once again was quite unpleasant to say the least. Yet, even as frustration took hold of her, she recognized that she was not the only one struggling within the situation. With that realization came the resolution to push past irritation and make this ordeal as painless as possible - if it was indeed she who had to leave.

 

On the other hand, Emma seemed to stiffen further as she retreated into her own thoughts. Her eyes darted to the irritant who just might finally be leaving before too long, before focusing on the man who had the authority to dismiss said irritant. What had just been a severe frown twitched into a smirk for the slightest of seconds as she contemplated the situation further. She felt a resolution of her own grow, gaining a resolve to put her best efforts into taking full advantage of this opportunity.

 

It looked like, soon enough, Emma would be getting a opportunity to do more than just knock her colleague down a few pegs.

 

"By when must you make this decision?" She pressed further, too curious to restrain her questions. This time, Elsie did shoot a quick glare at the woman - for now Charles was focusing on the floor instead of their eyes, evidently having been wanting to avoid that question.

 

"By February 15th." His eyes briefly rose to meet them, before he found himself forcing his gaze to remain fixed on the women. "Regardless of what's decided, whoever has to leave will be allowed to stay on for the rest of term. Nevertheless, by February 15th it will have to be decided."

 

"I see."

 

For Elsie, that translated into needing to go back to newspapers and internet searches the second she returned home - whether she wanted to or not.

 

For Emma, that only gave her a month to solidify her return and ensure her colleague's departure - a departure that would be soon be occurring if she had her way with the matter.

 

It'd be quite the task for both of them, now that their futures at Downton were no longer a guarantee.

 

But, with enough perseverance, the women would most likely manage to survive such a period of change in their own ways.

 

_._

 

Now, for the teachers on the second fourth floor, there wasn't any time to mope about unappealing possibilities, plot the potential downfall of colleagues, or lose themselves in the uncertainties of the future.

 

After all, even when the world felt as though it should've come to a halt, it tended to keep on spinning.

 

_._

 

The pair had been patiently waiting outside 402, not wanting to interrupt the teachers when the door was firmly shut. But, after several minutes of waiting outside for some clear sign they could enter, Sybil and Gwen decided that it probably wouldn't be all that terrible to interrupt.

 

In other words, Sybil decided it was time to knock on and open the door whereas Gwen was far more hesitant that in regard.

 

"So, what you're telling us is that not only can we not take the choirs to Carnegie, but we will also—Sybil? Gwen? What brings you here?"

 

But the reason that had prompted the visiting was lost the second the two young ladies heard  _that_.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes, was I right in hearing that the choir isn't going to be traveling to Carnegie this semester?" Mr. Carson bristled at Sybil's question, certainly not wanting the news to be revealed to students already.

 

"Sybil, Gwen," He managed to be not quite as sharp with them as he may have wanted. Frustrating the situation may be, their overhearing it was an honest mistake. "Although I would have preferred for the both of you to knock and  _wait_ to be let in-"

 

Elsie put a hand on his arm before she could think the action through, stopping him in his tracks. This was not the time for him to give blustering lectures or such likes - knowing his current mood, it would only result in lashing out more than anything else.

 

Only once he seemed to have reigned his ire in did she released her hand, turning back towards the two sopranos with a feigned ease.

 

"I'm afraid that we will not be traveling to Carnegie, no." The choir teacher paused, trying to find an appropriate way to explain the matter that she was still processing herself.

 

"It seems," Emma took the lead after a few seconds, working quickly to maintain a reassuring tone. "That we have not received enough funding to be capable of traveling to the choir festival. Which is such a shame, since the Advanced Mixed Choir had been very much looking forward to this."

 

"I see." Gwen quietly murmured whilst the gears in Sybil's brain whirred to action. She'd never felt such a defeated atmosphere within 402 and certainly not from her teachers.

 

"Indeed."

 

Luckily for the Advanced Mixed Choir, Sybil was not one to give into defeat so quickly.

 

"What about fundraising for ourselves?"

 

The three teachers gave a start, confused. For one instructor, theirs was the confusion that came when one's authority was unnecessarily challenged. For another, their sheepish puzzlement emerged with the acknowledgement that the suggestion was obvious - to the point where it should've already been considered. And for the final colleague, their bewilderment stemmed from questions of whether or not self-fundraising was entirely appropriate.

 

"Funding for ourselves?" The choir director began with a start, "I'm quite sorry, Sybil, but any suggested donations always go to supporting this institution – not to our personal plans for the choirs."

 

"I'm not thinking of suggested donations, Mr. Carson. Or, at least, not in the manner you're suggesting."

 

"Mr. Carson, I'm not entirely sure it would be appropriate to adhere to suggestions that have not been run by the administration." Mrs. Butte lightly warned, frankly miffed that Sybil was still persisting in this irrelevant idea.

 

"We're not 'adhering' to anything, Mrs. Butte, we're simply hearing the idea out." Elsie turned back to Gwen and Sybil, waiting patiently. "There is an idea, yes?"

 

Sybil hesitated, not having gone that far in the thinking. She did just hear of this problem, after all. And though she did like to fix issues, she wasn't quite at a level of problem solving that she could provide concrete solutions at the drop of a hat.

 

"We could start a Go Fund Me page." All eyes turned to Gwen, having forgotten she'd been in the room.

 

"A 'Go Fund Me' page?" Mr. Carson repeated incredulously, not liking the sound of that one bit.

 

"A Go Fund Me is a great form of fundraising," Elsie said, refraining from going into too much detail so as to not shock her colleagues. She settled instead for borrowing their personal language, using words she'd noticed were constantly being spoken within the choir rooms. "I've seen many refined people and prestigious organizations use it to fundraise for enriching causes."

 

"While I can concede that it is an idea to consider, I feel it is necessary to point out the fact we must discuss it amongst ourselves before anything else." Emma regained her momentum, still not pleased with the matter.

 

"The students could volunteer to run it in their spare time, so as to not take away from rehearsals." Sybil quickly offered, not wanting the choir teacher to "accidentally" sweep the conversation under the rug or dismiss the idea altogether. "We could see how much fundraising we could do by a set time, and then keep going if it seems possible."

 

"It certainly is an idea worth seriously considering." The youngest Crawley sister relaxed a little at this, trusting Mrs. Hughes to give the thought all the consideration it is due. "Though, something tells me that this isn't what brought you here initially."

 

The two young women sheepishly exchanged smiles at this, silently agreeing that Elsie was quite correct.

 

"We were wondering if we could perform a duet. We know it's technically supposed to only be solos that are performed, especially for the competition. But, we only want to sing together, not compete." Sybil confessed, prompting Gwen to shyly nod.

 

Charles stiffened at this, not wanting to add more to Elsie's plate as it is. Emma raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed with the situation herself - even if it did mean her colleague would be even busier.

 

Either way, the choir teacher who'd have the final say in the matter was beaming at the thought. To be quite candid, Elsie was enjoying the opportunity now before her. A duet would be a fun exercise in developing the talent of the two ladies before her - as well as give them another lovely form of vocal expression.

 

"Did you have a song in mind?"

 

_._

 

The rest of the day had past in a blur for the teachers on the second fourth floor. After the future duet singers had selected an appropriate performance song, the class periods swam by the teachers with disconcerting ease. Notes were corrected, pitches were altered, vowels were modified, and an almost robotic tone directed the three teachers as they processed the day's events in their own ways. Tempers weren't lost, students weren't brought to tears, but still there remained a dismal air within the walls of 402 and 403. An air that spoke of dark clouds filled with unpleasant changes.

 

Though, even dark clouds contained silver linings.

 

_._

 

"Enjoy your rehearsal, Ms. Hughes." Emma sweetly spoke as she carried herself towards the exit. Elsie looked up, having been gathering the sheets of music for the song she'd been waiting all week to unveil.

 

"Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Mrs. Butte." She kindly responded - not really having time to think about how unusual that term of address still felt, not with a rehearsal that was supposed to start in only five minutes.

 

And no time could be spent in such thoughts once she remembered that this was a rehearsal she'd been eager to start ever since the sheet music came in.

 

Charles looked over at her from his desk, perplexed by why Elsie sounded lighter now than she had all day all things considered. Though, upon glimpsing the name of the song just waiting to be passed out, he soon realized why.

 

It was with sense of horrified obligation that the choir director leapt to his feet, eyes firmly glued on the sheet music.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Charles began to protest at the sight of  _that_  song, quickly moving to block the doorways she stood closest too in an attempt to stop her from leaving just yet. "Surely, Mrs. Crawley was not being serious in her song request."

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie crossed her arms, still maintaining quite a firm hold on the music as well as properly grounding her stance - having been prepared for such a response. "Think about the Crawley family, contemplate the level of candor they maintain in their communications, and then kindly step aside so I can continue on with my work."

 

_And think also of the fact that I have been in desperate need of a proper distraction ever since this morning. And, do realize that this is the best option I've got._

 

The voice director did the requested contemplation and thought about the family as a whole. And while he could concede that Cora Crawley was most likely rather serious in her request, he couldn't acquiesce to Elsie's final command. He found he could move only a few centimeters out of the way instead of the required meter.

 

After all, it still too scandalous a concept to just let her bring in such repertoire without any form of resistance. For instance, imagine what  _Violet Crawley_ would say if she heard of such music being taught  _and_  performed within the halls of Downton.

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but I find it impossible to step aside and allow this deviation in music to proceed."

 

Elsie would have put her hands on her hips - if she'd had the ability. As it was, she settled for a sharp exhale before turning on her heel and walking towards determinedly towards the other exit.

 

"What are you doing?" He quickly followed her without a moment's hesitation, absolutely bewildered by her reaction.

 

"If you are going to be stubborn about the matter, I can go about this another route - literally." After all, there really was no longer a point in holding back from doing what she truly wanted, now was there?

 

At least, not when it came to the choirs.

 

When it came to other matters, that now seemed to be a moot point.

 

In any case, Mr. Carson managed to reach the door before her - his longer stride giving him slight advantage over her obstinate pace. But, this time, he couldn't outright block it.

 

"Just try to not encourage further deviations, Mrs. Hughes." She raised an eyebrow at this. "Please."

 

Her resolve lessened a bit. And for a second he was almost convinced that she'd even hand him the music currently in hand before selecting a more appropriate piece from the music library.

 

"I make no promises. But, for your sake, I'll try to make sure that none of the future songs selections are as 'scandalous' as this."

 

The good news being that her only other 'scandalous' choice had already been chosen.

 

And the better news?

 

Very little, if anything, was going to have her rescind any of her musical decisions. And certainly not now of all times - when she might be packing her bags before too long.

 

_Isn't it ironic that the moment I began to believe I had a future here, I find out that I could be quite mistaken?_ She couldn't help but allow the self-pitying thought to arise for a few seconds before beginning to move past her colleague so to open the door.

 

"I hope you have an excellent rest to your day, Mr. Carson." Elsie found herself saying to her friend as the door began to swing shut behind her. However, there was apparently still more to be said - as evidenced by his stopping the door before it could properly close.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She sighed with almost a fond exasperation, reminded of a similar moment that had occurred only yesterday. And with that recollection came the desire to take a few steps back into the classroom, so as to hear him out.

 

This time, though, the choir teacher suspected that her colleague was about to propose a rather different idea than the one he'd given yesterday. To be quite honest, she wouldn't be surprised if he was about to suggest that they forget about walks and anything of that nature - now that there was a clear decision to be made about the choir staff.

 

Well, regardless of why he was calling her back into 402 for, she really needed to say something about how "You need not refer to me with such a title, Mr. Carson. Not when Emma has reminded me it's no longer the case."

 

Charles made to respond, to argue his own reasoning for still calling her as such. But, after watching her posture that was returning back to an unusual tiredness, he found he had more pressing matters to attend to.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," The man repeated, trying his best to indicate that this habit of his was not going to change anytime soon. "I had wanted to inquire as to whether or not you'd still be agreeable in regards to traversing back to our respective forms of residences - once your final rehearsal has concluded, of course."

 

The choir teacher questioningly raised an eyebrow, shocked that he was suggesting continuing such an activity after what they had found out today.

 

Partaking in a walk together would've been quite a treat less than twelve hours ago. However, with everything that had transpired over the course of the day, she had to wonder where her friend's sense of propriety currently was.

 

For his suggestion certainly lacked it.

 

"Do you not think that we should perhaps refrain as such, what with everything else?" Charles straightened up at this, his intentionally serious demeanor quieting Elsie's thoughts as the man began to respond.

 

"I believe that, regardless of what may occur over the next few weeks, it would be foolish to let such a situation dictate our capability to walk together."

 

For, whether or not Elsie remained at Downton, he wanted the opportunity to enjoy her company whenever possible. And while he couldn't exactly classify his feelings on the matter, he could acknowledge their existence.

 

As such, he no longer felt inclined to allow the concept of propriety to take any enjoyable aspect of this relationship away. And, while it was true that this was not necessarily his wisest idea, there was another truth he found himself realizing:

 

Today alone proved that life has a tendency to alter situations whenever and however it wanted to. That, for all the control humanity craved, there wasn't a true ability to perfectly manipulate or freely maneuver through life.

 

But, enough of those introspective thoughts.

 

Thoughts could be pondered, given and revised at any time. Hours could be spent replaying ideas, days could be given to reflection while years could be spent re-examining circumspection.

 

These few minutes spent in 402 with Elsie would never repeat themselves.

 

And, so, he found himself asking.

 

"Well?"

 

The unusual breathy quality, one that had snatched away his pristine tone, had stirred something within Elsie. She made to move towards him, to give him some sort of reassuring action to complement her approaching words, before remembering the music sheets she still held.

 

"Well," She softly repeated, "I have no desire to argue with that."

 

_Far from it._

 

Charles stared at her, knowing that they'd have to properly talk about all of this. Whatever "this" was - the walks, the distracted verbal slips, the smiles and subconscious touches - it would have to be addressed.

 

He took a step forward, not wanting to shove the matter into a sloppy conclusion but also in desperate need of some form of resolution. Mrs. Patmore's earlier remarks, the ring that revealed itself to be in fact missing, the subtle changes in mannerisms, these concepts all had been wrapping themselves around his mind.

 

And they were all firmly entrenched within thoughts of his future decision.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Alfred was so well-meaning with his intention of ascertaining the whereabouts of his teacher, even if it unwittingly disrupted what was turning into an intimate moment.

 

"Is everything alright?"

 

Good intentions for the  _a cappella_ choir aside, Charles still found himself wanting to strangle the boy for interrupting them when Elsie clearly had more to say.

 

"I'll right there, Alfred." The young singer nodded, closing the door and heading over to join the rehearsal that'd be starting momentarily.

 

"Mr. Carson," He readied himself for anything, not quite recognizing the tone. "I hope you'll be content with listening to  _Journey_ for the next hour and a half, as well as our normal repertoire."

 

Charles relaxed a little, faintly smiling at the sound of a sly remark that promised so much.

 

"Does that mean what I believe it does?"

 

A teasing twinkle accompanied the fond gaze she was now sending to him.

 

"Mr. Carson, you should know by now that there is hardly a point to asking questions you already know the answer to."

 

It was a response that held as much cheek as Elsie's exit: another arching of an eyebrow soon followed by the graceful turning of her heels as she smartly walked out of 402. And it was this response that allowed him to sink back into his chair with relief.

 

"Now students," If he closed his eyes, he could make out her voice even through the walls that separated the classrooms. "I do believe there was a request for-"

 

Well, he certainly didn't need to close his eyes to hear the resounding squeals of delight.

 

Though, how could he fault them?

 

He himself was in a similar state of mind, all things considered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can certainly bet on Charles and Elsie still enjoying their walks together - regardless of what may happen!
> 
> Also, to any who wonder why Mrs. Butte is acting the way she is: this is a character who knows how to throw people off. She's rather intelligent, very observant for the most part, and she is also incredibly insecure.
> 
> And she's gone from having the choirs to herself to sharing them with someone who was only supposed to stick around for a semester. This isn't what she wants and therefore, for Emma, it's quite clear that Elsie has to go. That means throwing her off any way possible such as somehow revealing her to show incompetency, attempting to get her to willingly leave, etc.
> 
> And with this new opportunity, she's going to amplify any pettiness - such as pointing Elsie's status as a widow - into proper manipulation.
> 
> Now, do we approve? Not in the slightest.
> 
> Will it work out in her favor?
> 
> Well, while I have my own writings on the matter, what do you believe?


	5. Subtle Encounters and Sublime Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learned more about the British school term system and the summer term today. Have decided that we are going to be absurdly American in this regard and stick to a traditional American system -- a fall semester, a spring semester, and an optional summer semester.
> 
> Also! Enjoy a cameo made from another fandom -- there's a show I recently got into and I felt it was only appropriate to give a little shout-out. There's also a shout-out to some other wonderful singers I've gotten to work with. As well as a little tribute to a very sweet Chelsie fanfiction - "One Hundred Days To Say 'I Love You'" by Lindsey Grissom.

 

 

“Mr. Carson!” She had caught him as he was entering the building, rather pleased that they had bumped into each other before anything got in the way.

 

“Ah, Mrs. Butte! How are you this morning?”

 

“Quite well, and yourself?”

 

They continued in the direction of the second fourth floor, chatting of several subjects. It was small talk interspersed with various critiques of the songs to be performed within the choirs. And while this had once been a habit of the pair -- to discuss and plan for the week long before the day had begun -- it felt like something was lacking for the choir director. As they took the stairs together, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing.

 

Or, at the very least, something was different.

 

“I am so looking forward to whipping them all into shape once more,” Emma confessed, taken in by her own recollections.

 

“Interestingly enough, I believe they’ve all been steadily improving since the last school year.” Belatedly, he realized that she had no hand in any of that improvement and moved to rectify what could be considered a slight. “Though, I’m sure you’ve noticed further ways to enhance the overall quality of the choirs.”

 

“Indeed.” It was the first slip in the conversation, the first real moment he felt something shift between them since her return.

 

But, whatever had occurred, both were soon distracted by what appeared to be a piano playing in the distance -- the notes echoing down the stairwell as the sounds of a voice softly followed.

 

“Now, who could that be at such an hour?” After all, 6:45 was not a typical time for anyone to be in the building. And Elsie tended to arrive around 7:15 -- not that Charles took particular note or anything.

 

“It sounds like--” Emma paused in her words, beginning to identify the song and wondering just was going on.

 

Well, if there was one thing the choir director did not care for, it was a mystery like the one before him. As such, he found himself rapidly picking up pace as he quickly strode to the entrance of 402 -- discovering it unlocked. His colleague in turn found herself quickly treading on the heels of her director as they went to investigate the sound.

 

They quietly entered the room, Emma making sure to silently close the door so as to take their performer by surprise. After all, in her book there was no student that had the right to sneak into the second fourth floor and bang notes out on the piano unsupervised.

 

Though, in all honesty, she firmly believed there really was only one likely suspect….

 

_._

 

Charles took half a step into 402, watching Elsie as her immersed herself with the song.

 

_“Oh, sorrow!”_

 

The woman mournfully sung, incapable of refraining from letting her voice ring throughout the room as she rehearsed the poignant accompaniment.

 

_“Sing sorrow!”_

 

Haunting notes of the piano twirled into crescendoing words as she continued, as though the sounds of weeping could be conveyed within her tone.

 

_“Now she sleeps in the valley_

_Where the wild flowers nod!”_

 

Fingers dutifully played alongside as the chilling  _forte_ gradually descended into _mezzo-piano_.

 

_“And no one knows she loved him_

_But herself,”_

 

A dark silence took over the room as she indulged herself in a  _fermata_ , a pause, that was not written in the music but still felt appropriate.

 

_“And God.”_

 

As the lowest sung note of the song was strikingly sustained for several counts, Charles couldn’t help but wonder why she had chosen to rehearse such a piece. He continued to observe as she closed her eyes and slightly lowered her head, still oblivious to their presence even after finishing the song. For a heartbeat or two, her posture almost reflected that of someone who was not just performing. But then her head rose, shifting her overall demeanor. Her eyes soon opened once more as she began to pencil in some notes in the sheet music before her.

 

“That was quite a magnificent rendition, Mrs. Hughes.” The words tumbled forth before he had a chance to stop them.

 

Elsie’s pencil stilled at the comment, surprise flashing in her face for a second before she quickly regained control.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Carson.” The pencil continued to mark notes about the music. “Though I’m afraid I’m still more rusty with the accompaniment than I’d like to be.”

 

“Who will be singing it?” Emma asked, somewhat curious.

 

“Edith.” Came the response, as more sheet music was flipped through.

 

“I’m sure she will perform it excellently.” Charles remarked, recalling the second soprano’s voice and feeling it could match the tone of the song rather well.

 

“How long have you been rehearsing, Ms. Hughes?” Mr. Carson turned to the other woman, still not caring for the changed term of address. Calling Elsie "Ms." may be correct, but "Mrs." felt far more appropriate.

 

“Only a little while now.” Came the vague reply, informing the other two teachers that it had most likely been a little longer than just a “little while”. “I decided to get in some rehearsal for the soloists before the day began.”

 

“Of course.” Emma agreed, “Well, we’d hate to keep you from your rehearsal. Do carry on.”

 

Elsie nodded at this, already flipping to the next song.

 

“I do have one more question before you continue, Mrs. Hughes: has Mary dropped by to inquire about a solo yet?”

 

“Not yet, Mr. Carson. The second she does, I’ll be sure to inform you.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Now, as I had been saying on the stairs, Mr. Carson,” Emma smoothly inserted herself back into main focus, “I have noticed that there have been a few singers who aren’t necessarily capable of maintaining the standards of the choir they reside in.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. Of course, it is only week two. So, I don’t necessarily believe that action needs to be taken just yet.” Charles turned at this, wondering what actions she could be referring to. “Still, I think I might personally reach out to some of these students, so as to help them in this matter.”

 

“Well, depending on the students you are speaking of, shouldn’t reaching out fall to myself or Mr. Carson?” Elsie asked abruptly, pausing her sight-reading for the moment.

 

“Ms. Hughes, I’d hate for you to add more to your plate than necessary, what with the solos as well as conducting three choirs. And, Mr. Carson, with the decisions you must make there is no need to worry about such a matter. I feel personally responsible for taking care of these students and more than happy to reach out.”

 

Elsie wanted to say more on the matter, not exactly liking the woman’s tone. But those words struck Charles with something he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

 

“Speaking of personal responsibilities,” He, now reflecting on an unfortunate task before them. “What are we to tell the students when it comes to Carnegie?”

 

The mood plummeted at this reminder, conversation stilling for an awkward minute.

 

“The truth: we will not be able to take them.” Emma primly decided, uninterested in unnecessarily withholding information.

 

“That’s not the whole truth, though.” Elsie interrupted, thinking back to her conversation with Sybil. “If there are acceptable solutions for fundraising and we obtain enough money, we could still take them somewhere.”

 

“But _not_ to Carnegie.”

 

“Yes,” The woman faltered, disappointed with the situation at hand. “Not to Carnegie.”

 

“Has Sybil provided you with more ideas?” He couldn’t help but ask, curious as to what the youngest Crawley would possibly have in mind.

 

“We agreed on Friday that we’d discuss the matter over lunch today.”

 

_Here’s hoping it’d go somewhere._

 

“Then, I’m not going to mention it until we have some form of resolution on the front.”

 

Elsie nodded, knowing that -- while Charles wasn’t particularly in the mood for some ghastly form of fundraising -- he did want the choir to have a chance to experience a proper choir tour.

 

“Of course, that’s not the only bit of news the students need to be made aware of.” Emma spoke up, shifting the conversation towards the elephant in the room.

 

“There is no point to mentioning that to the students until a decision has been made.” Charles firmly declared, wholly against bringing that subject up just yet.

 

“We’ll have to tell them at some point, Mr. Carson.” Elsie conceded, not caring to be the bearer of bad news but equally adamant that the students were informed of the matter sooner rather than later.

 

“And we will. But only once a decision has been made.”

 

_And just when will that be?_

 

_._

 

“Now, ladies,” Elsie had been looking forward another rehearsal with this piece -- finding the song to be as rejuvenating as it was magnificent. “Remember to drink in the air you breathe as though you were sipping water through a straw.”

 

The Bel Canto choir nodded at this, having long since learned to accept their teacher’s quirky methods and unusual metaphors. And, as she had previously explained, they knew that breathing as such tended to help in regards to keeping a clear tone and maintaining good breath support.

 

“And, furthermore,” Elsie made sure to meet the eyes of every singer before her as she proceeded. “This is a song about the blossoming of spring. And as you sing of this ‘subtle and sublime’ beauty, I want you to envision every detail within the lyrics. The crocus, the groggy gray ground, the lilies, the blossoms, I want you to bring every word to life with your voice.”

 

Heads dutifully bobbed in assent -- willing to follow her lead. Once she had full agreement, her hands floated up to chest-level -- one hand lifting to signal Emma to start.

 

A gentle melody quickly swept through the air, the spirited eighth notes stirring the energy of the room. The ladies began to _“Ooh”_ with their respective notes, sending thrilling chords throughout the floor as they soared through _mezzo-piano_ into a growing _mezzo-forte_.

 

_“Once April rouses_

_Earth from deep_

_Silent slumber.”_

 

It was as though the winter clouds surrounding Downton today were beginning to part, allowing the warm and hopeful tones to take over.

 

_“And awakens,” “And awakens,”_

 

The parts began to properly split, gentle echoes occurring between the sopranos and altos as the lively tune steadily glided around them encouragingly.

 

_"The stirrings_

_Of the unopened_

_Bud.”_

 

_Mezzo-forte_ soon burgeoned into _forte_ as the ladies began to enter the enchanting chorus.

 

_“Beauty,_

_Hidden for a time.”_

 

Elsie couldn’t help but allow herself a small smile, her ears basking in the delightful chords that were starting to be sung with more confidence.

 

_“Duly_

_Ushers in the season,”_

 

Like the rays of the sun, their voices swept over the room -- filling it with kind and tender beams of sound.

 

_“Reborn beauty,_

_Subtle and sublime,”_

 

Already proving to have improved since last week, the choir teacher urged them on to at least finish this section before they began work on developing the rest of the song.

 

_“A renaissance_

_Of new life in”_

 

Having quickly sprouted into _forte_ , Elsie calmly brought the choir back to  _sotto voce_.

 

_“Bloom.”_

 

As the budding notes began to form within the various sections, each part getting a chance to blossom in the choir, Elsie gently lowered her hands with a pleased look in her eyes.

 

“That was rather excellent -- much improvement from last week!” She freely complimented, receiving many twinkles of joy and eager grins in response. “Let’s check in on those crocus and the snowdrops, shall we?”

 

_._

 

After the breathtaking improvement from Bel Canto, it was time to let the Advanced Mixed Choir shine.

 

Charles turned to his favorite choir, sharing the latest announcements now that they finished warming up.

 

“Now, Mrs. Hughes has been kind enough to offer solo assistance during our rehearsals from now until the competition. If you are interested, there will be a sign-up sheet for each week at the front of the room. And for those still interested in finding a solo, you have until the end of this week to do so.”

 

Solemn nods were given by those interested singers who still hadn’t approached the choir teachers about the opportunity. Those with a solo already selected, on the other hand, settled for eyeing the sign-up sheet. No doubt, once there was a chance to sign-up, there'd be a mad rush to the piece of paper. A mad rush that would also somehow come across as dignified -- seeing as how Mr. Carson would still be in the room. 

 

“And, now, I’d like to focus on ‘Set Me As A Seal’ for the first half of rehearsal.”

 

Music was quickly flipped to the appropriate pages, students beginning to sit properly upright as Mr. Carson’s hands rose through the air in a dignified manner. After a beat, it was clear the choir director was ready for Emma to play the first chord and for the singers before him to then follow his lead.

 

_“Set me as a seal_

_Upon your heart.”_

 

Their voices rippled through the air, the _a cappella_ arrangement allowing for the resounding sound to remain the sole focus.

 

_“As a seal_

_Upon your arm.”_

 

Elsie sat in the corner, quite content to listen as she continued the unending task of grading music theory assignments. 

 

Such a task did, of course, keep her rather incognizant to Charles’s brief gazes in her direction.

 

_“For love,”_

 

The altos gracefully swam through the swiping notes along with the baritones. The sopranos, tenors and basses steadily maintained their own smooth notes, the voices blending into one another to create a splendid tranquility.

 

_“Is strong as death.”_

 

With such an emphatic and exquisite tone, it was sure to be a successful rehearsal.

 

_._

  


It was true that the Advanced Mixed Choir was rehearsing even more successfully this semester than in previous ones. It was also true that, their rehearsal success aside, Charles was not looking forward to the first lunch period. For it was during that time that, with feeling with inherent dislike, he began to type out what he had already long since decided was a necessary evil.

 

**_Hello, Mrs. Barnaby,_ **

 

**_This may seem out of the blue, --_ **

 

No, no, this was a professional inquiry not a casual correspondence.

 

Charles stared at the draft, his hands stilling as he wracked his brain over the appropriate words. How one started an inquiry about such matters was currently escaping him. Though, whether that was due to the nature of the inquiry or the fact that he was rusty when it came to this in general was also unknown.

 

**_Mrs. Barnaby,_ **

 

**_I had wanted to inquire as to whether or not you had any vacancies at Midsomer--_ **

 

_Very subtle. Full of tact, this is._ It really wasn’t that much of a step up in comparison to his first attempt, but it’d do for now. This draft would undoubtedly go through multiple revisions, naturally. And, fortunately, Joyce was a friend from many years back from prior singing opportunities. They'd worked together on more than one occasion.

 

In essence, she was someone who he could trust to perfectly understand what he was truly asking -- even if he hid his questions underneath a formalized tone.

 

“Mr. Carson?” Emma walked over to his desk, unaware of just what he was doing. Still, he made sure to minimize the draft so as to not catch her attention. “With the weather rather nice today, I was thinking of taking a walk down and spending lunch off-campus. Would you care to join me?”

 

“No, no, I’m afraid I still have some correspondences that require an immediate response.” Her eyes briefly glanced at his computer screen, but the email draft was safely hidden from sight. It wouldn’t do to give either her or Elsie any form of false hope if they accidentally glimpsed at his efforts to find them a job. He couldn't be sure his inquiries would result in anything, after all, and he did not need them to assume he'd already made a decision. Because, he really hadn't. And the likelihood of that changing was inordinately slim.

 

"If you're sure."

 

If he couldn’t keep them both, at the very least he’d try to help whoever had to leave. There’d be no “gently going into the night” for either one of them, not if he could help it.

 

"Quite sure, Mrs. Butte. Enjoy your lunch break."

 

_._

 

“Mrs. Hughes,”

 

Elsie had been waiting for this encounter ever since the announcement had first been made. And, though she never thought she’d be thinking it, the woman had to admit that she was rather intrigued to see how this would go.

 

“Mary,” She turned to face the first soprano, knowing better than to feign surprise at her arrival. “I was wondering when you’d be dropping by.”

 

“I’m afraid I had been a little too busy to do so last week. But, please, don’t mistake that for disinterest.” The choir teacher took note of the authenticity creeping into the young woman’s tone, deciding to take her at her word. “I certainly appreciate any opportunity to develop as a singer.”

 

“Well, this may come to you as a bit of a surprise, but I’m afraid we will not be working together quite as closely as the other soloists.”

 

“Oh?” Elsie nodded quite seriously, recalling the conversation that decided this with faint amusement.

 

“Yes. If you would kindly follow me.” She led Mary back into 402, pleased to see that the teacher who had been so adamant about this deviation was currently doing nothing.

 

“Mr. Carson, there’s someone here to see you.” Though, just because she brought Mary over didn’t mean Elsie would leave the two of them alone. After all, she would still be working with Mary from time to time, even if the soprano was to receive special assistance overall.

 

And furthermore, why would she want to leave when she had no idea just what her colleague had in mind for the soprano? He had requested that she bring the younger soprano over, but gave no clue as to what he'd had in mind.

 

“Hello, Mr. Carson,” Mary respectfully greeted, bringing the choir director out of his seat. “Am I correct in assuming that you will be my soloist instructor?”

 

“Not quite, Mary.” He confessed. “Rather, I feel it is best if both Mrs. Hughes and I worked together with you.”

 

Needless to say, the student was a bit baffled by the peculiar proceedings. Thus, it seemed to fall to Elsie to guide the conversation now.

 

“Mr. Carson has informed me that you’ve had quite the training for solos already?” Though, she already could tell that from Mary’s audition last semester.

 

“I wouldn’t say ‘quite the training’, but I’ve had some experience, yes.”

 

“And this experience, has it been with any languages in particular?” The two teachers led her towards the music library, one of the few areas on the second fourth floor where no student was ever allowed to venture.

 

Needless to say, Mary was honored and somewhat mystified -- not understanding why they were invested in giving such special treatment.

 

“English, German, French, Spanish, as well as Latin.” She continued, dutifully reciting the selection from memory.

 

“Quite impressive,” Elsie conceded, sharing a look with Charles. Currently, he currently looked as though he were bursting with pride at her compliment -- an action that in turn tickled her to no end.

 

“Thank you,” Mary softly remarked, almost blushing a bit at the praise herself. It was no secret that she and Mrs. Hughes did not get on nearly as well as, say, Sybil and Mrs. Hughes did. So, to hear such words from the woman did mean something to the younger soprano.

 

“You’re welcome.” Elsie was pleased to say that the iciness Mary tended to shield herself with was starting to melt into something kinder than mere cordiality. Though, whether or not the soprano was in fact warming up to her, the choir teacher was absolutely still going to challenge her student when it came to singing.

 

“Now, then,” Mr. Carson started the conversation up once more after half a minute of silence. “I do believe there is a song that comes to mind.”

 

“Is there now?” “May I ask what’s coming to mind, Mr. Carson?”

 

“Mrs. Hughes,” He looked at her as though he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. But he looked just as determined not to sort through her books -- as though it would be a violation of privacy or trust. Elsie would have to remind him that her singing books were his to peruse at any time, whether she was a member of the staff or not.

 

“Yes, Mr. Carson?”

 

“Do you happen to have a copy of ‘Du Bist Die Ruh’?” Mary’s eyes widened at this a little, recognizing the piece instantly.

 

“I certainly should.” The choir teacher scanned her books, before remembering which one should contain the lied in particular. “Here it is.”

 

“Excellent.” Charles then gazed at Mary, trying his best to observe her reaction. “Have you performed this before, Mary?”

 

“Never.” She confessed. It wasn’t that the piece was too intimidating for her to try. Rather, the intimidating part was acknowledging the message within the lyrics -- the message being one of a love the young woman had never felt before.

 

And, it was also true that sustaining those high notes did sound like a bit of a trial to sing as well.

 

“Perfect.” Elsie sensed the trepidation and, while she was never a fan of destroying someone’s confidence, she was appreciative of challenging her students. And, from the looks of it, they had indeed found something that would indeed challenge the younger soprano.

 

_._

 

“Well, I’m glad Mary was able to drop by today.” Charles confessed once the door shut behind the soprano in question. “Though I only wish Mrs. Butte hadn’t gone out for lunch: I’m sure she would have had excellent advice -- singing German is one of her specialties.”

 

Elsie distractedly nodded as she was suddenly reminded of something she had to do, something associated with Mary.

 

_Or was it Matthew?_

 

No matter; the woman was already jumping to her feet, shocking her colleague with such abruptness.

 

“Mrs. Hughes?” But she was already out of the room by the time he’d thought to call out for her.

 

“Mary?” The choir teacher caught the soprano just as she was entering the stairwell.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes?”

 

Elsie paused, trying to properly remember what just came to mind. Fortunately, it came back to her only after a few seconds.

 

“If you could please inform Matthew that I’d like him to drop by when he has a chance later today -- I’ve something I wanted to ask him.”

 

“Of course, Mrs. Hughes.” Mary demurely replied, unsure as to what it was her choir teacher wanted with Matthew. But, before she could walk away the younger soprano remembered something that might delay that conversation.

 

“Actually, Mrs. Hughes, I just remembered that Matthew won’t be able to stay after school. He and I, as well as the others, have a pressing family engagement.”

 

After all, Martha Levinson had just returned to England for a short while -- having stayed with the family for the holidays before revisiting other parts of Europe. Therefore, even though Matthew was only a distant cousin, he as well as Isobel had been invited to tonight’s dinner -- a meal set up to celebrate Mrs. Levinson’s return.

 

“In that case, please let him know that I’d appreciate it if he could he drop by sometime this week. And inform the others that you’re all excused from today’s _a cappella_ rehearsal.” The eldest Crawley sister gave a quick promise to mention as such, prompting Elsie to once more nod her thanks towards the younger woman. The student took this as permission to head back to lunch, bidding her teacher a good rest to her day. Elsie herself had decided to return back to 402 after that encounter, in an effort to converse with Charles a little more before they were once more interrupted.

 

Though, upon her return, she was beginning to regret not having retreated to 403 instead.

 

For, after ensuring that everything was alright with Mary, her friend turned his concern to her.

 

“Remind me, Mrs. Hughes: when’s the last time you ate something today?”

 

“Really, Mr. Carson, it’s hardly as though I’m starving.”

 

This was, of course, the very moment her stomach decided to growl in protest at such a statement. Which in turn only caused him to raise an eyebrow -- sending her a knowing look that just so happened to contain concern.

 

“Should I see if Mrs. Patmore has some sandwiches for us?”

 

“Very funny.” It was dryly spoken and totally lost its impact when her stomach rumbled once more. He gave her another look, one that hinted more of a surprise than anything else.

 

“There’s no need for alarm -- I promise to try to eat within the hour.” She just had a feeling there’d be more soloists coming through in just a minute, which meant there’d be no time for a run to the vending machines. Because heavens know her level of hunger wasn't worth attempting the cafeteria. “I simply forgot to bring my own lunch today.”

 

“Why don’t I share part of my lunch? I’ve got a sandwich right here.”

 

Elsie blinked, her appetite making its presence rather apparent now that they were discussing the matter. Said appetite was also reminding her that she had unintentionally skipped breakfast and probably needed to eat as soon as she could.

 

But, the woman would much rather get something from the vending machines than indulge in part of Mr. Carson’s lunch. It felt somewhat inappropriate and, knowing how hungry she was, she’d unwittingly eat most of whatever he made for himself.

 

“I’d really rather grab something from downstairs.” Though, he was already back at his desk and pulling out what looked to be a rather delicious Ploughman’s Lunch before she could finish her statement.

 

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” It was innocently asked, that’s for sure. Still, she stared at him all the same -- waiting for him to realize the potentially risqué wording.

 

The door to 402 was knocked on and promptly opened before he had a proper chance to.

 

“Ms. Hughes,” Elsie had not been expecting Sarah O’Brien anytime after class today. Nor did she anticipate Sybil and Gwen to be unintentionally accompanying her. But, after a beat, she remembered she told Sybil to drop by to discuss fundraising. And with the alto’s attitude about auditioning last semester, it only made sense that the young woman would probably be inclined to request a solo.

 

“We can come back at a later time, Mrs. Hughes.” Gwen hurriedly remarked, realizing the timing was not ideal.

 

“Nonsense, I should only be a moment. Now, what can I do for you, Sarah?”

 

“I want a soprano solo.”

 

Elsie blinked -- taken aback by the blunt request and distracted by the hunger still demanding her attention. Sybil and Gwen had mixtures of shock and irritation, respectively, at this statement. And Mr. Carson looked like he also wasn’t pleased with such an attitude in the slightest.

 

“Sybil, Gwen, why don’t you follow me into 403?” The choir director quietly asked, though the ladies knew it was not a request. As they assented to joining him in the other room, he placed the sandwich back on his desk and led them out the door -- letting Elsie take full control of the situation with Sarah.

 

“I see. Are you sure you don’t want something in the mezzo-soprano range?” Mezzo-soprano songs did hold lower notes as well as higher notes, after all. And while singers should push their voices when it came to expanding their range, the choir teacher found it was better to do so gradually.

 

“I’m quite sure, yes.”

 

Well, she could hardly deny the young woman’s request. The only way that’d happen is if the alto proved she couldn’t sing the notes. And, currently, Elsie was not in the mood to deny or prove anything -- it took far too much energy and patience.

 

“If you’re sure.” She herself still wasn’t convinced this was the best idea. But, there was already a song coming to mind, she was honestly ravenous, the other ladies were still waiting with Mr. Carson, and Sarah would probably enjoy the bitter tones of the piece.

 

“I am, Mrs. Hughes.”

 

_Suit yourself,_ the woman thought as she retreated to the music library for the umpteenth time in the last two weeks. Within seconds, the appropriate songbook was retrieved and she was well on her way back to the copy machine.

 

“Have you ever heard of ‘Flow My Tears’ by John Dowland?”

 

“No, I have not.” _Sounds depressing._

 

“Well, it’s certainly not your typical choice, being an ayre.” At Sarah’s confused look, “It typically would require a lute for accompaniment, but we’re in luck: there’s quite a few versions made for piano accompaniment as well.”

 

“And, it’s got high notes?”

 

“It does indeed.” _Though, why you aren’t interested in exploring some of the beautiful notes altos can perform escapes me._

 

_._

 

“So, what fundraising ideas did you have in mind?” While Charles was more concerned about Elsie’s eating habits at the moment, he knew that now was not the time to focus on such a matter.

 

“Well, Gwen and I both came up with a few,” Sybil began, pleased that they were being heard out -- even if it was Mr. Carson doing the hearing. “One of which was the Go Fund Me page.”

 

“Ah, yes.” An idea he didn’t care for until Elsie had properly broken it down on one of their previous walks. Still, not his preference for fundraising in any case. “And what else did you have in mind?”

 

“Well, we had been considering maybe having a solo showcase after the competitions. There’s so many students that have requested solos that we could easily make a show out of it and charge for tickets instead of asking for a suggested donation.” Gwen started to pitch the idea, being nudged by Sybil to speak up for herself.

 

“What about the deadlines for registration? Carnegie’s will be passing in a few days, and others will soon be ending as well.”

 

“We did some research and there’s still quite a few choir competitions and festivals abroad where the deadline to register doesn’t end until May 1st. So, if the showcase is in April we’d still have enough time to register.”

 

“I see. And, did you have any other ideas?”

 

“Yes. Though,” Sybil paused, having really wanted to run this idea by Elsie first -- so as to have more faculty support. “It involves a little more effort.”

 

“Go on.” At the very least, he’d hear them out. 

 

“Well, some choirs perform ‘carol-a-grams’ and since holiday songs to fundraise. And while we are no longer celebrating the holidays, Gwen and I noticed that every ensemble has at least one song involving love. So, we thought that maybe, during the week of Valentine’s, we could set aside time in class, our respective lunch periods or possibly even after school to go around in little groups and sing requested love songs. We could also record videos in case requesters aren't students or faculty. And we could even call people up and sing over the phone if recording doesn't work.”

 

Charles took the request in silence, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t until the two young ladies had pointed out the theme of love that the choir director realized that was unwittingly the case. And that realization, as well as hearing the overall plan, certainly took a moment or two to process.

 

But, before he could officially react, the door opened to reveal a slightly worn out Elsie Hughes.

 

“I take it you ladies have come up with some ideas?” She kindly asked, shaking off the mood that came with working with Sarah as she walked over to take a seat near the group. As the girls excitedly began to reshare their ideas, Charles took this as a chance to retrieve his sandwich from 402. When the man returned, having acquired the rest of his lunch in the process, it seemed the second sopranos had convinced their teacher to give every fundraising option a shot.

 

“I see no reason why we can’t give the ideas a chance,” Elsie confessed to her students, “Though we will, of course, have to discuss them with Mrs. Butte before we can do anything.”

 

That comment deflated the young ladies a bit, their hopeful grins dimming.

 

“Is something the matter, ladies?” Gwen shook her head, not wanting to concern to their teachers. On the other hand, Sybil looked a little crossed between wanting to say something and wanting to agree with Gwen.

 

“It’s just, Mrs. Butte didn’t seem necessarily interested in fundraising at all. And I’d hate to lose the opportunity if she’s not.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll be quite agreeable to the matter, now that more of a solid plan has been created.” Charles said in defense of his colleague. Elsie refrained from saying anything, recalling Emma’s previous actions when they discussed the matter and finding herself agreeing with Sybil.

 

And, the woman also knew that she was too famished to maintain a cordial conversation for much longer.

 

“Now, I’m afraid Mrs. Hughes and I have matters to discuss.” She saw through that immediately and was only too grateful to object. Any chance to sneak down to the vending machines was quite appreciated by this point. “So, if there are no more questions,”

 

“I do have one question, for Mrs. Hughes.” Gwen said as Sybil added, “I’ve a question for Mrs. Hughes, too!”

 

“Alright. First, what was your question, Gwen?” The young second soprano withdrew into herself for a second before getting the marbles out, so to speak.

 

“I hope this doesn't sound impertinent, but I was just wondering if you prefer Mrs. Hughes or Ms. Hughes?”

 

While it did hold some impertinence, the question didn't bother Elsie as much as it did Charles. 

 

 

“I am more used to ‘Mrs.’ by this point, but I have no official preference.”

 

“Understood, Mrs. Hughes.” Gwen respectfully responded with a small smile, watching as she returned the expression whilst he maintained a stern face.

 

“Now, what was your question, Sybil?”

 

“Well, Mrs. Hughes, I was wondering when we could rehearse the duet?”

 

“I’d be more than happy to arrange a set rehearsal time for you both during your lunch period, how does that sound?”

 

“That sounds perfect,” Suffice to say, both Gwen and Sybil were pleased that this would in fact be an agreeable time.

 

“In that case, shall I put together a few official times to rehearse and run it by you both tomorrow?”

 

“That certainly works, Mrs. Hughes!” “That works for me, too -- thank you, Mrs. Hughes!”

 

“It’s my pleasure.” The woman warmly responded as the young ladies began to take their leave.

 

Elsie maintained a faint smile all the way up to the closing of the door. But once that door was shut, the smile tiredly disappeared as she took a few minutes to sit and close her eyes. The woman needed a minute to breathe and regain her bearings before attempting to find some food.

 

_._

 

Once Elsie had finally slumped into her chair -- appearing to have given up for just a few moments -- Charles felt that was this was time to properly act.

 

Gradually, he made his way over to the chair she occupied and took one of its neighbours. Her eyes, having been shut the second she was properly sat in the chair, remained blissfully closed even as she sensed his approach. With his sandwich well in hand, he held it out in the direction of her general vicinity -- close enough that she’d sense there was something in front of her, but far enough for her to be unaware as to what it was.

 

“Can you hold this for me, Mrs. Hughes?”

 

Elsie grabbed the sandwich unquestioningly, automatically acting to help him without a second thought. Though, once her mind caught up to her actions there was an instantaneous reaction.

 

Startled blue eyes blinked open as she realized what she was now holding, her pupils widening as Charles smoothly scooted his chair and hands out of reach. A protest formed on her lips, some sort of argument about how “This isn’t really necessary, Mr. Carson. And while I’m thankful for your consideration you really ought to take back your sandwich now.”

 

But the objection was already dying as her stomach growled for the third time in 20 minutes.

 

“Please.” Charles pleaded in  _sotto voce_ , just wanting to help her in anyway he could.

 

Elsie sighed, briefly reminded of a similar moment that’d occurred only about a week ago. The only real difference being that it was she who had been asking him to take care of himself.

 

Still, with that being the case, could she really argue with him now?

 

The woman brought the sandwich to her mouth, acquiescing to the request as she began to take a small bite. Truly, it was rather delicious -- even coaxing a small moan of pleasure as she continued to enjoy more of the homemade lunch. This enjoyment turned into a devouring that could have been deemed unbecoming, had she been observed by another colleague, that is.

 

In this case of this particular colleague, however, the actions were not quite “unbecoming” per se.

 

If anything, they were provocative and hypnotic.

 

And while he was not regretting the offer of his sandwich, he was regretting his inability to do anything other than watch the proceedings in a mesmerized state.

 

Luckily, the woman was unaware of the effect her eating had on her companion. Luckily for him, that is. With a blush spreading throughout the choir director he now firmly averted his gaze, directing it towards the floor in an effort to maintain decorum. This didn’t really help matters, seeing as how his gaze may have been distracted but his brain was still accompanied by some risqué ideas involving food. This was all worsened by the incoming thoughts -- thoughts that should be directed towards a romantic partner, _not_ a friend.

 

Let it be known that Charles was now both rather entranced and equally scandalized by the thought of sharing another meal with Elsie.

 

Let it also be known that if they did indeed share another meal together, _she_ would be the one tempting _him_ \-- not the other way around.

 

**_._**

 

Last semester, Elsie had only dispersed little pieces of advice with the Beginning Female Choir. Seeing as how the beginning choirs were typically the newest singers, she hadn’t wanted to overwhelm them with too much information.

 

Now that they were a little used to her teaching style, however, the woman felt it was the perfect time to start scattering more information. Not only that, it was very likely that she would not be staying around for much longer. So, there’d be no point in refraining, now would there?

 

_Elsie Hughes, there’s no point in getting upset over something that can’t be changed._

 

And, so, she redirected her focus.

 

“Ladies,” Today, they were starting to get more into the music, properly starting to pick it up. Nevertheless, she could already see one little habit they could begin to tweak.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes?” Emma watched her curiously from the piano -- wondering which of the hundreds of flaws her colleague was going to try to fix.

 

“There’s something I noticed that we’ve been doing, something that’s holding us back.” Their faces began to fall a little, disappointed. Little did they know, even professional singers still carried habits that always needed working on. “And I have an idea on how to adjust it.”

 

“What’s that, Mrs. Hughes?”

 

_There are a few things that we can work on._ Elsie thought to herself, looking forward to working on and creating future change with these lovely ladies and their voices this semester. _But, for now we’re going to focus on this._

 

“I’m going to sing the first couple of lyrics twice, but both times I’m going to do something different. I’d like you to tell me what you think I’m doing differently and which version you prefer.” They nodded at this, curious to see what their teacher would do next. “I will be singing the first soprano part only because it’s the part everyone typically recognizes. It’s not to call them out or any equivalent.”

 

They nodded once more, understanding. Once they all did so she focused on making sure to maintain posture as well as carry good breath support so as to not distract them.

 

_“Oh, Shenandoah,”_ Elsie sang into the notes, still not having obviously made any mistake yet. _“I long to see you,”_

 

There was a hint of the issue she wanted to work on as the girls noticed their teacher’s voice wasn’t quite as smooth as normal. The older woman also seemed to letting her face start to tilt towards the sky the higher she sang, her neck becoming tight with tension, and she wasn’t even at the highest note in the lyric.

 

_“Away, you rolling river.”_ That’s when her neck seemed unnaturally lifted, her voice sounding not quite as elegant as normal. A few girls giggled at the comical sight as their teacher came to a halt, amusement furtively flickering in her eyes as well.

 

“Now, allow me to try it once more.”

 

The overall posture was the same this time, as well as her breath support. Even so, there seemed to be a clear difference right off the bat.

 

_“Oh, Shenandoah,”_ Elsie was firm in her stance, and she seemed far more grounded overall this time around. _“I long to see you,”_

 

The notes progressed in the same upward fashion, but she was hardly reflecting any progression in how she sang it. It was almost as though each note was connected to the other -- following each other as though they were one line of sound.

 

_“Away,”_  

 

Feeling the urge to the show off -- only to provide further example, of course -- Elsie allowed extra notes to soar around the few written in this section.

 

_“You rolling river.”_

 

She came to a pause, not completing the lyric. But that wasn't necessary in order to demonstrate her point.

 

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

 

“Please do continue, Mrs. Hughes,” Isabel Johnson, an outspoken Alto 2, requested with more than a hint of cheek. “What if we’re not sure what’s different?”

 

Other girls eagerly agreed with her through nods and verbal affirmations.

 

Well, who was she to deny her students when they were giving their full attention?

 

_“Oh, Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,”_

 

Letting her voice adjust for these notes, she carried on to the next lyric-- which just so happened one of her favorite parts.

 

_“Away,”_

 

Her voice gave them a taste of what would be happening later by tenderly rippling through the notes of each section -- having the notes cascade as though each part could be rolled into one wave of sound.

 

_“I’m bound away.”_

 

Their eyes were wide with wonder as she finished the lyric.

 

_“Cross the wide Missouri.”_

 

An inquisitive stare fixed itself upon her face as she concentrated on meeting everyone’s eyes once more.

 

“So, which one did we like more?”

 

“The second one!” Many girls excitedly chorused, profuse agreements occurring all around.

 

“I do suppose the second one was the better version.” She playfully remarked, ignoring the giggles and chuckles that erupted within the ensemble at this. “Now, does anyone have a reason why they liked it?”

 

“It was very pretty.” Maribel Diaz, a first soprano sitting in the second row, shyly commented.

 

“Why, thank you, Maribel.” The soprano blushed as she ducked her head at the acknowledgement. “Any other thoughts or reasons?”

 

She waited a beat, content to work on this for the rest of class if necessary.

 

“It felt steadier the second time around.” Claire Morris, a second soprano occupying a spot in the third row, spoke up. “More grounded, I mean.”

 

“I do believe you’re onto something, Claire,” The soprano grinned at the compliment, looking rather pleased with herself. “Does anyone know why it might sound like that?”

 

After a minute of waiting, a patient “No?” commenced.

 

Giggles had long since abated, now she was getting the blank stares she’d seen many times over the last thirty years.

 

“The simple answer is that, yes, I was grounded.” Elsie eventually revealed. “I didn’t allow the notes to control my voice, I let my voice control the notes.”

 

Blankness shifted to variations of awe -- her simple statement appearing to unlock one of the keys to singing.

 

“And I can do that with a simple trick.” Heads tilted inquisitively, unspoken questions brimming within the choir. She held out a hand, keeping it at chest level and with the palm facing down as though she were about to conduct. “I’d like you to hold one hand, just like how I am.”

 

They silently copied her movement, waiting for further instruction.

 

“When my notes get lower, I’m going to be pretending that I’m actually singing higher. And, my hand is going to raise as I do so -- to remind my voice what it needs to do.” Blinks broke out at this, blinks followed by raised eyebrows and bewildered expressions. “Same thing for when I’m to sing higher: I’m going to pretend to be singing lower as well as drop my hand when I do so.

 

“Let me demonstrate.”

 

The choir teacher closed her eyes and recalled the correct notes with ease, not needing Mrs. Butte to replay anything on the piano just yet. She then opened then, ready.

 

_“Oh, Shenandoah,”_

 

Elsie’s hand began to lift with the low notes and fall into the high notes, her voice continuing.

 

_“I long to see you,”_

 

Now, her hand was starting to glide towards the floor as she maintained a careful and clear tone.

 

_“Away,”_ Rising upward once her enchanting voice soared over the higher notes as her hand continued to gently dip into the air, _“You rolling river.”_

 

She then turned her hand over -- with the palm facing upwards in order to shift the attention to them.

 

“Now, you try.”

 

As they started to do just that, it was clear that they’d all need to continue practicing to get the hang of it. What was also clear was that her ladies were beginning to sound different, that they were letting their voices test out the concept of being more grounded.

 

_._

 

It was with a sigh of relief that Emma Butte was finally able to bid her colleagues a good day. Watching Elsie triple her efforts to improve the choirs all day was only entertaining for the first class period. It soon grew to be more irritating, observing the woman tirelessly work to give the students as much help as possible.

 

Truly, why she bothered in the first place escaped Emma. By the end of the semester, she'd would be gone and any assistance she attempted to give would be long forgotten. The teacher had seen it before in many other situations. And while such a situation hadn't involved her before, it didn't make a difference -- with any luck, Elsie Hughes would be long gone from Downton by the end of term. 

 

Still, it didn’t mean that Emma couldn’t also do her bit to prove just how capable _she_ was as well.

 

Which would, of course, prove how she was indeed far worthier of retaining her position at an institution like Downton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else wants to say that pride goeth before the fall?
> 
> That little trick Charles does with the sandwich is something I've experienced in the past -- and I confess it works.


	6. Apple Crumbles and Necessary Examples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a mix of humor, drama, and more hints of the future. To any Andy fans and/or anyone who's had rough conversations with teachers/authority figures, I apologize in advance for what he's about to go through - you certainly can skim that conversation when it comes. And please note that by the end of the chapter, that situation should start to give hints of redemption.
> 
> Also, while there are Series 5 and 6 quotations/references embedded within this chapter, I must fair warn that this chapter won't have as much Chelsie progression as it did in those moments.

 

"You mean to tell me you've not thought of doing a bake sale as well?"

 

With her lunch periods getting swamped with solo work, it looked like the best time to call upon her dearest friend was in the morning. Though, this time, it was less of her decision to call upon Beryl and more of Mr. Carson ordering her off the piano until 7:55.

 

"You know as well as I that I'm certainly not competent enough in that realm to consider the idea."

 

"Maybe not," The band director briefly conceded, "But have you ever heard of this brilliant concept called 'asking your friends for help'?"

 

Elsie shot her a look at look, an acerbic response well on its way.

 

"When such friends are so humble about the matter? I wouldn't dare!"

 

"Oh, very funny." Beryl dryly remarked, "Mr. Carson certainly would be too humble to mention it, I'm sure."

 

"Mr. Carson bakes?" It was incredulity at best, disbelief at worse.

 

"Not as a habit, no. But I've had the chance to sample his apple crumbles over the years and they're surprisingly good." Elsie took this in with a sense of fascination even as she spotted a problem.

 

"We can't make the bake sale revolve around apple crumbles - it's not efficient enough."

 

"No, we can't. But we could borrow the kitchen of the cafeteria to bake biscuits and the likes."

 

"I'm not sure that the others would be so inclined to try this plan out."

 

"Mention that baking has always impressed you and it won't matter what Mrs. Butte thinks." Elsie nodded along, until she realized just what her friend had said.

 

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

 

"Oh, nothing, nothing." But the woman's attitude said otherwise, as well as the sly look she currently sent.

 

"Orders or not, I think I ought to be leaving now - thank you!" Beryl scoffed at this, knowing that her friend might not be bluffing for once. After all, the choir director was a sensitive subject for Elsie, especially this semester.

 

"Well, if you're going to scurry off now, I have something for you to give to Mr. Carson."

 

"Oh? And what is that?" Beryl walked over to her mini-fridge - if Jane could keep a Keurig, she could certainly have one of these. "No, wait, don't tell me-"

 

"You haven't been forgetting to eat again, have you?" Came the sharp remark as Elsie found herself holding a container full of sandwiches.

 

"Even if I haven't, it seems someone is assuming I will." She humourlessly remarked, barely refraining from holding the container in a begrudging manner.

 

"Goes to show how well the man knows you," Beryl responded in an overly bright fashion. "Now, if you were serious on leaving just now, I'm to make sure you ate at least one sandwich in my presence."

 

"You must be joking, Beryl - Mr. Carson would know better than to attempt that!"

 

The band director determinedly looked at her friend, defiantly crossing her arms in the process.

 

"While Mr. Carson didn't even bother attempting with such a request,  _I_ am not letting you leave without proving you've eaten something. And if you think for one moment that I'm not carting the rest of these over the second the lunch periods start,"

 

"I get the picture," The disgruntled mutter was briskly emitted as a sandwich was snatched. "Now, what are you doing?"

 

"Keeping to my promise." The woman in question quipped as she started to dial an extension number. "Mr. Carson?"

 

Elsie leaned over, trying to catch the tinny response even as Beryl took the receiver out of earshot.

 

"Yes, I am indeed witnessing her eat one as we speak. Well, she's stopped right now to glare at me, but she had been eating one just a minute ago."

 

"Beryl Patmore," But the threatening tone was significantly muffled by the bread - thus lowering its intimidating factor by quite a bit.

 

"Yes, Elsie dearest?" Now that she could hear a clear snort of disbelief from the other end of the phone, the choir teacher's cheeks were aflame. And she was definitely not in the mood for anymore teasing. "Mr. Carson, it appears someone is trying to intimidate me and -- I realize now it's probably best to hang up. But, before I do so, I'm pleased to say she did finish one sandwich -- though, I'm afraid I'll have to go Mr. Carson: she seems to going for one of my knives!"

 

_._

 

Alfred had made sure, ever since the first day of the semester, to show up at least five if not ten minutes early to choir. For even though Mrs. Butte was now only playing the accompaniment, he didn't dare risk being late and incurring her wrath once more.

 

"Mrs. Hughes? Is everything alright?"

 

The woman seemed to be in a mood as she proceeded up the stairs, not quite stalking the steps but not really gently ascending them for that matter.

 

"Everything is perfectly alright, Alfred."

 

He didn't believe her for a second. But he did know better than to say as such.

 

_._

 

Martha Levinson was not a woman who cared to have her time wasted, the precious commodity that it was.

 

Yet, every time she came out to visit Cora it eventually happened. For almost every visit across the pond, she was given a tour of a school she felt was twenty steps behind the world. And when she could be enjoying the weather a Mediterranean winter could provide - which is what her brother had decided to do in lieu of staying in England for the season….

 

Well, let's just say that she was even less interested in a school tour at this time.

 

"As you can see, Mrs. Levinson," Today's tour guide was an administrator - Isobel or some such name. Martha's pretty sure she briefly met the woman last night at the family dinner, but can't confess to being interested enough to remember. "The drama department not only has increased in reputation, but also in size."

 

"Interesting." She remarked in a bored tone as they continued walking around the only floor she ever got a proper tour of since this school was built.

 

"Indeed."

 

_._

 

Isobel Crawley had not been interested in playing the role of tour guide. And certainly not for someone who was obviously uninterested in her academy.

 

"And, not only our drama department has increased," They were now heading back to the main offices. "Our science department has also-"

 

"Did you hear that?"

 

Isobel paused in her speech, closing her eyes to listen more carefully.

 

"I'm not sure." Though she was now hearing footsteps- "Mrs. Levinson?"

 

The woman was already halfway to the second floor, her personal tour guide long since ditched.

 

"Mrs. Levinson!" Isobel would not shout at the woman, but she would raise her voice in a dignified manner.

 

"I'll be just a minute, Isobel!" Came the reply as the older woman was now nearing the third floor.

 

The administrator looked up the stairs before glancing back in the direction of the main office.

 

_Well, I can't just abandon the woman now can I?_

 

As she made her way up the stairs -  _how did Martha Levinson do this so effortlessly? -_ Isobel came closer to identifying the sounds that had snagged the older woman's attention.

 

"That would be our beginner male choir you're hearing. I believe they're referred to as the Bass Choir,"

 

"I don't recall ever hearing them sound like this."

 

"You've been to the concerts?" Was what she wanted to ask. She refrained, changing the track of the conversation instead.

 

"That would probably be partially due to Mrs. Hughes."

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" The name appeared to ring a bell, albeit Isobel reckoned it was a very muffled one. "Isn't she the new chemistry teacher?"

 

"She was hired as a temporarily substitute for Mrs. Butte." Came the terse response.

 

"And she's still working here?" Martha asked as they came closer to the second fourth floor. "Good for her."

 

"Yes, the choirs seem to be excelling now more than ever due to the combined influences of Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, and Mrs. Butte." They reached the floor in mind, easily opening the door and approaching one of the entrances to 402.

 

Little did Isobel know, that piece of information lessened Martha's enthusiasm.

 

"Well, let's give Mrs. Hughes a congratulations for choosing to stay at such an institution, shall we?"

 

"Mrs. Levinson-" But, Martha was already opening the door and poking her head in.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" The Bass choir fell into a shocked hush - a fair amount of them instantly recognizing the infamous Martha Levinson, one of the most important patrons of Downton Academy.

 

All in the room straightened with dread at the surprise visit, having no idea as to what would bring the woman up to their class. Nobody in the room had ever had the pleasure of Mrs. Levinson visiting their classroom before.

 

And what the woman would want with Elsie Hughes certainly escaped their knowledge.

 

_._

 

"It is Mrs. Hughes, right?"

 

Elsie looked up from her spot in the corner, having been grading the weekly music theory homework assigned to each choir. Suffice to say, she did not recognize the woman now calling her name. Though, the fact that Isobel Crawley was also in the room informed her that this was someone who probably held a high status within the school. That, and the realization that the woman - who spoke with a clear American accent - was dressed in a fashion far exceeding Elsie's paygrade.

 

All in all, after putting those clues together, the choir teacher had a fair idea she now knew who the American was.

 

But she'd rather let Charles, Isobel or even Emma do the introductions.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Levinson," The choir director looked shocked at the patron's unexpected presence, turning to her and letting his arms drop to his sides as he stopped conducting. For a second it even looked as though he were inching away from the American, appearing to not want to be anywhere in the vicinity of the woman.

 

This, of course, only served to encourage the woman.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," She proceed to walk past Mrs. Butte at the piano, looping an arm around Charles's as she did so. After she secured her victim- choir director, she dragged him in the direction of Elsie, who was still sitting in the corner. "I just wanted to say that I'm glad to know that at least one person in this room knows how to run a choir."

 

_._

 

Isobel looked like she was conflicted between allowing herself muffled chortles or trying to free the choir from Mrs. Levinson's unabashed interest. This was certainly not how she intended the tour on going.

 

Charles seemed mixed between feeling absolutely insulted and positively mortified. This had to be the last thing on Earth he wanted to be experiencing.

 

And Elsie was crossed between wanting to chuckle as she fended off the unnecessary praise and needing to remain absolutely professional. This was proving to be somewhat entertaining.

 

Even if it took away from their rehearsal.

 

_._

 

"Now, Mrs. Hughes, I have to ask: surely such a fine chorus as this is performing a classic song like 'Let Me Call You Sweetheart'."

 

"Actually, Mrs. Levinson, I'm not in charge of the music selection for the Bass Choir."

 

"You aren't?" Martha looked rather offended by this, shooting a glare at Mr. Carson for making such a decision. "What a pity. I heard of your selections for the previous concert - it was interesting enough I actually missed not coming to the show. But, if you're also going to be here for the spring then I'll be sure to make the trip again."

 

Which meant that, even if Martha wasn't able to make it to the show in the end, they would be expected to perform the piece.

 

"I suppose it might be possible to add that into program," The choir director hesitantly began - still trapped by the woman's firm clutch on his arm.

 

_Well, it wouldn't be the first time an ensemble has performed a special song request this year._  Elsie thought to herself, furtively looking at Charles in fond remembrance.

 

"Perfect!"

 

"Yes, well, we should probably leave the choir to their rehearsal, Mrs. Levinson." Isobel really did need them to leave before the woman made any more comments that had Mr. Carson acting quite so perturbed.

 

"Of course," The woman conceded, finally dropping the choir director's arm. "Mrs. Hughes, always a pleasure. Mr. Carson, make sure to listen Mrs. Hughes - her talent should not be wasted."

 

She left the two teachers speechless, grandly turning around as she sauntered back to Mrs. Crawley.

 

"And have a nice day, Mrs. Pu- Mrs. Butte." She said, absolutely aware of the woman's last name. It just so happened that, from the moment Martha had met Emma Butte, she hadn't cared for the woman's ways. Too sycophantic a smile for her liking.

 

Therefore, there was no need to pretend to be overly civil.

 

"You as well, Mrs. Levinson." The response was made through gritted teeth - certainly not coming from a sincere sentiment.

 

It was this response that released the snickers, snorts, and awestruck expressions the Bass choir had been holding back ever since the American walked in. The young teens were struck with a feeling of reverent admiration for the woman, having not witnessed such interactions within the music department.

 

And, unbeknownst to any of the teachers, Martha had one last gift the Bass Choir that morning: she sent them all a sly smirk as she exited - letting them realize she knew perfectly well the entertainment she just provided for them all.

 

_._

 

As the door closed, comments broke out amongst the crowd. All three teachers were valiantly trying to obtain silence once more, but it was too late for the moment.

 

Though, not for one in particular.

 

"Andy," Mrs. Butte sharply reprimanded. "I will be seeing you after class."

 

"But, Mrs. Butte, I didn't-" However, Charles Carson would not tolerate any sort of disobedience, not after a scene like that.

 

"Andrew, you will do as Mrs. Butte says and you will stay behind." The tenor looked fairly upset at this, but refused to say anything else. "Now, we will firmly put the last five minutes behind us, and continue to rehearse right until the bell--"  _Ring!_

 

It was too comical not to bring a rambunctious encore of laughter, as dozens of teenage boys scrambled to leave the room as quickly as possible.

 

_._

 

_How dare she!_

 

Emma absolutely despised the treatment that she had received at the hands of Martha Levinson. The American snob had ignored her throughout the entire interaction, thrown sickening compliments upon a colleague that was absolutely undeserving, and then proceeded to "accidentally" mispronounce her name - having crossed her path several times in half a decade.

 

Well, she'd show her.

 

But first, it was time for a different type of show.

 

Any thoughts of helping the choirs more effectively than Elsie was thrown out the window for the time being. Rather, Emma was reverting back to her traditional methods for helping the choirs - which had proven to be a great deal more efficiently over the years.

 

"Hi, Mrs. Butte," Andy dejectedly walked up to her, radiating the insecurity that any performer of his decidedly-low caliber should. And much as she wanted to let patronization sneak through her eyes, she chose instead to put a kind air into her voice.

 

"Now, Andy, I wasn't calling you out because you were being mocking or indecorous - I do recognize that you hardly had a reaction to Mrs. Levinson's actions."

 

The young singer looked up, confused. She resisted the urge to snort at this pathetic look. Instead, she widened her smile and gestured to the door.

 

"Why don't I walk you in the direction of your class? I'd hate for you to be late."

 

"Thanks, Mrs. Butte." Andy said, a bit of cheer returning to his face. And, so they began to walk out the door, leaving Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to prepare for the next class.

 

Once they exited the floor and began to head down the stairs, she started the real conversation.

 

"Andy, this is your first year in the choir, right?"

 

"That's right, Mrs. Butte."

 

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that's rather apparent." He came to an awkward stop, confusedly turning to his teacher.

 

"What do you mean?" She met his eyes easily, letting her gaze hold some vague reassurances amongst the candor.

 

"Well, even with ensembles like the Bass Choir, we do expect some level of knowledge and technical proficiency from all of our singers." He blinked a little, subconsciously stepping a bit back as she continued, "And while this is still only just the beginning of the semester, I'm getting the feeling from what I can hear that singing is not a suitable art form for you.

 

"You can hear me sing?" Emma chuckled, not withholding the disdain that she felt with the question.

 

"With a voice as... distinct as yours, Andy, I can assure you it's apparent. And, I only bring it up because I suspect that's not going to change." He looked liked she was breaking his heart, but she was only telling him of the facts. It's not her fault that he wasn't cut out for this. "Now, seeing as how class registration for next year is just a month away, I would hate for you to feel as though you couldn't keep up with the level of proficiency required in these ensembles."

 

The passing period bell had rung, signaling that he was already late to his next class.

 

"But-"

 

"Don't take it to heart, Andy," She spoke with a simpering tone, "Sometimes this is just the case in life. Perhaps, if you have a desire to continue with music, consider joining one of Mrs. Patmore's bands. All levels of talent are welcomed there."

 

He silently nodded, looking rather crushed at the implication. He valiantly tried to hide it from her, but she knew the tell-tale signs from years of experience.

 

"Now, we wouldn't want you to be late to class, now would we?"

 

Andy nodded mechanically this time, unable to do much more. Emma politely smiled, smartly turning back on her heel as she began to make her way back up the stairs. It was with delight that she started to return to what she was so happy to say was still her domain.

 

Though, as she heard his retreating footsteps on the stairs, the teacher's sharp ears also caught the sound of sniffles.

 

Ah, well. He wasn't the first, and he certainly wouldn't the last student she'd be delivering such a speech to. After all, it had taken Emma less than week to detect most of the students lowering the level of their vocal quality. And, truly, there was decent quality and then there was the type of quality that couldn't be classified as anything other than any abysmal.

 

Well, she'd be in for quite the month. For now that she gave the matter more thought, it became apparent she would have a lot of work to do if she had to speak to  _every_ one of the culprits ruining her choirs.

 

But, arduous task or not, it was indeed absolutely necessary. The choirs had slipped in technical proficiency over the last semester, that much was clear. They were choosing to focus on expression and working slowly on improving their voices with Ms. Hughes at the helm - instead of progressing at a more appropriate level.

 

That would have to change, if they were to get anywhere.

 

Honestly, the things she did to maintain choral excellency. Many of which proved that she definitely was  _not_ paid enough.

 

_Though,_ came the impish thought as she carried herself back up the stairs,  _I do have a solution for that._

 

_._

 

It was their fourth time going over the piece with the Advanced Mixed Chorus. And, though the students could sight-read fairly well and piece together the music, it was lacking in energy.

 

Simply put, Mr. Carson was at his wits end. And, seeing as how Emma did not have any particular desire in figuring out why the choir wasn't truly singing, it fell to Elsie to investigate.

 

Fortunately, she already had a fair idea:

 

"Could any of you tell me what it is your singing? And why you're singing it?"

 

Anna perked up, those words reminiscent of a similar conversation last semester. But, it is not she who eventually spoke.

 

"The Italian translation reads," Mary began to primly read,

 

"'The white and sweet swan

dies singing and, crying,

I reach the end of my life.

Strange is it

that the swan dies without comfort

And that I die joyfully.

A death that fulfills me

With happiness and longing

Because I don't feel other misery (when I die)

I would be happy to die a thousand deaths a day."

 

"Why was such a sad song chosen for the spring concert, Mrs. Hughes?" Sybil asked, quite concerned.

 

_It's not I who chose it,_ Elsie wants to remark with. However, she settles for a response that might help the situation - instead of drawing attention to Mr. Carson's unusual selection.

 

"What if I were to tell you that this is a song not speaking of death? Or, at least, not death in the traditional sense?" She was quite thankful they were a private academy - this song might not have made it into a public school if the true meaning were revealed.

 

"What do you mean, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_Oh, to be that innocent again._

 

"I'm sure you'll be able to research just what Ms. Hughes means in your own spare time." Emma quickly chimed in, not interested in leading their charges down such a path at this moment - not when they could be rehearsing. "However, I'm equally as sure that Mr. Carson would like us to continue on."

 

"Quite right, Mrs. Butte."

 

It was only after their rehearsal, when there was a brief chance to stop and think, that a particularly odd thought came to Elsie's mind:

 

Why had her curmudgeon of a choir director deviated in such a fashion by choosing such a song? It was a beautiful song, yes, but when one delved into the meaning it almost seemed a little risqué - especially coming from Mr. Carson.

 

Though, it was also a very famous madrigal that inspired much of choral music for the following centuries. It was also a tangible reminder of how different life was over the course of history - that this was how people had decided to communicate when it came romantic intentions. And it was a lovely demonstration of homophony - adding a fabulous musical texture to the words.

 

Therefore, it could only be supposed that Charles had chosen as it as a representation of choir history and a demonstration of the choir's talent. It certainly did not have to translate as some sort of hint in regards to his personal feelings. Nor did it necessarily have anything to do with her.

 

In any case, with Emma approaching them both, there wasn't any real time to contemplate the situation any further.

 

"I have an idea when it comes to making your decision, Mr. Carson, and I think you'll seriously want to consider it." The woman curtly stated, ignoring Elsie's disbelief that she'd broach such a topic without any forewarning.

 

_._

 

It had taken William far longer than he would've liked to finally muster up the courage and approach his favorite classroom for a second time that day. Ever since he had seriously started to consider the idea of a solo last spring, the idea remained faithfully by his side.

 

And, now, he was finally ready to just walk up to that door, politely knock and request-

 

_Oh._

 

It looked as though some sort of tension had overtaken 402. Mrs. Butte looked like a storm cloud ready to unleash her water burden, Mrs. Hughes appeared to have issues with this unleashing, and Mr. Carson looked distinctly uncomfortable with the metaphorical storm altogether.

 

Looked like he'd be returning at a later time today.

 

Or, perhaps, he'd just give them some privacy and wait until tomorrow.

 

He did have until the end of week, after all.

 

_._

 

"So what you're suggesting," Elsie began to restate the proposal, "Is to give us both a trial run in regards to our competency as teachers."

 

"While I'm afraid those weren't my exact words, those are the basic facts of the matter." Emma turned to Charles, taking his silence as permission to continue. "If both Ms. Hughes and I have the opportunity to take on the role of director for one week each, it would give you the opportunity to thoroughly compare our performance as instructors."

 

"But, what about the chambers and ensemble pieces? We haven't had a chance to work on those yet and two weeks is a long time."

 

"Those are songs that, while difficult in nature, hardly require the full semester that is afforded to us, Ms. Hughes. Now, Mr. Carson, do you have any questions or thoughts on the matter?"

 

"It certainly is an unorthodox solution, Mrs. Butte."

 

"That it is. But, if we are to prepare the choirs for any sort of proper future, we cannot delay this decision for much longer."

 

She was unfortunately right. Even if no one had to leave till the end of term, plans of how the choirs would progress would still have to be adjusted. Concerts, future competitions, new directions to take the choirs in - they'd have to keep the current staff in mind. Therefore, nothing could truly progress until a decision had been made.

 

"That's certainly true." Elsie muttered, looking at her colleagues. "But surely we need some time to decide if this is the best course of action to take?"

 

"We cannot afford to procrastinate in this regard, as you already know."

 

"While that may be true, I cannot decide my opinion on the matter until I've had at least a day to think it over." Charles firmly decided.

 

"Well, I suppose a day is an agreeable time limit. But, I really do believe that this matter needs to be decided as soon as possible."

 

"Whether this becomes our plan or not," Elsie began, realizing one more important detail. "We'll need to strongly consider informing the students of the matter soon. If Mrs. Butte and I are officially in charge of the choirs for two weeks, they will invent all sorts of reasons as to why this is the case. And, even if we do not choose this plan, they're intelligent and observant. It's quite possible rumors of all sorts could start at any time if someone catches wind of this."

 

"I'm afraid teenagers would hardly care all that much about the matter. As I'm sure you're well aware, we are only their teachers - not their friends. And, furthermore, to tell them the truth is to unfortunately create a very biased opinion, Ms. Hughes. We really need to make sure that the choirs treat us as they normally would, in order to fully prove our merit." Emma rapidly replied, somehow able to maintain a sweet tone whilst doing so. "Though I must confess: you have a point about the rumors - we do not require such distractions. So, perhaps some form of the truth is required."

 

Elsie turned to her colleague, understanding her reasoning, recognizing the validity of her points and still absolutely disliking her mentality. Perhaps it was the simpering delivery, or the words themselves. But, before she could give the Scottish Dragon within her a little verbal freedom, a certain someone was already responding.

 

"Mrs. Butte, I must ask you to remember that while we may not be friends with our students we are certainly their examples. As such, we have to consider precisely what our future interactions must be with them." Charles turned to Elsie, "I do agree that this, as well as the fundraising, will have to be brought up to the students soon. However, I am unsure as to the timing of the matter, as well as how much we should reveal. Emma is correct when she says that this needs to be based on merit and that such information would cast that factor aside."

 

Elsie had started to smile approvingly once he began to speak, pleased that he was reminding Emma they were indeed the examples for the students. But, as he finished his statement any sign of approval faded - even as she recognized the accuracy in his statement.

 

"I see." And she did, truly. It's why she didn't continue with any sort of argument.

 

That didn't mean she necessarily cared for the matter. All the reasoning was sound, yes. And the arguments drawn up so far seemed to have been well-thought.

 

There was still something that bothered her about it all. Something that didn't feel right.

 

However, with Mrs. Butte clearly having made up her mind and Mr. Carson looking as though he was at a disconcerting crossroads when it came to making a decision, it wouldn't be the best the time to keep challenging the suggestion. A shift in subject was probably more suited for the mood.

 

Though, make no mistake. Elsie would be bringing this up on their walk back to their homes. And not only for the sake of the choirs.

 

"Speaking of fundraising, Mrs. Patmore had an idea."

 

"Oh, did she now? How kind." "And what did Mrs. Patmore have in mind?"

 

"A bake sale." She'd started to pitch the idea, but another thought came to mind. One that had her internally grinning as she archly remarked, "And though I'm sure she didn't have this in mind, I admit I'm rather partial to a good apple crumble."

 

"A bake sale, Ms. Hughes?" But Elsie was far more interested in watching Mr. Carson show hints of flustering thoughts at the comment. It not only made for a delightful sight, it also tickled her to no end that she was practically flirting with the man - something she'd not properly in for quite some time.

 

"Are you now, Mrs. Hughes?" Charles asked in a knowing tone, quite aware of the tease hidden within her comment.

 

"I am indeed."

 

"Well, I really think a 'Go Fund Me' page would have better luck than a bake sale, if I'm to be quite honest." Emma politely interrupted, speaking as though she were afraid of somehow hurting Beryl's feelings on the matter.

 

"Certainly not." Charles spoke without thinking, unintentionally bristling his colleague with his words. "I'd much rather attempt to sell confections than attempt that technological monstrosity."

 

"Luckily for the choirs," Elsie began to dryly respond, "It won't be you setting up the page."

 

The two women chuckled at this, able to agree on one subject: if there was one thing Mr. Carson was never successful at it was having an accepting mind of technology, innovation and any sort of change.

 

"Which reminds me, what did you think of the other fundraising ideas, Mrs. Butte?" The question was curiously asked as the mood continued to shift to one that seemed far lighter.

 

However, change in subjects aside, there was still a muted tension in the air. A vague heaviness that wouldn't be lifted any time soon. It was evidenced in Mrs. Butte's occasional narrowing of the eyes during lulls of silence, Mr. Carson's hands fidgeting ever so slightly from time to time and Mrs. Hughes's intermittent lip biting.

 

This, of course, was all thrown out the window when the door was opened to reveal one Beryl Patmore - complete with sandwiches.

 

"Mrs. Patmore? What brings you here today?"

 

But the band director hardly cared about Emma Butte. And certainly not when she was on a mission.

 

"Ber- Mrs. Patmore, what did I say about-"

 

"And what did I say,  _Elsie_ , about my bringing over sandwiches for lunch? My only regret is that I was much later than I thought I'd be -"

 

"Well, isn't that a pity."

 

"- it seemed there was a flautist who needed some help,"

 

"A flautist, you say? Why am I not surprised?"

 

"Well, at least she wasn't a soprano!"

 

"Do you understand what is beginning to transpire?" Emma asked her colleague, watching the two other women start to bicker at a pace that put  _moderato_ to shame.

 

"Not a clue."

 

"I'll have you know that forgetting to eat from time to time isn't 'just life', Elsie!"

 

Charles sharply exhaled at this, feeling such an attitude was indeed unacceptable. But, that wasn't his only thought: he was also regretting having enrolled Mrs. Patmore in his efforts to attempt to take care of his friend.

 

If the band director did indeed get the woman to eat at all, he wouldn't be hearing the end of for quite some time.

 

_._

 

Thomas had given Andy ten minutes to show up to their last-minute study session. The tenor had requested it the day before so as to prep for a test in his English class and, naturally, Thomas was more than happy to help.

 

Yet, when ten turned into fifteen without any sort of heads up, it was clear that something was wrong.

 

Quickly grabbing his phone, the baritone sent off a quick text. Part of him was irritated that he had been kept waiting, the other part a little concerned for his friend.

 

_**Is everything alright? - TB** _

 

The baritone set the phone down, focusing on looking over the required textbooks Andy's class had been assigned. He'd almost lost himself in the readings, actually. That is, until he realized five more minutes had passed and Andy never responded.

 

_**? - TB** _

 

This, fortunately, did eventually get a response.

 

_**Yeah what's up? - AP** _

 

This time, Thomas did lose a little patience. In fact, he was deeply scowling at the text message - vexed at such a nonchalant attitude when he had skipped lunch just to help out his friend.

 

_**Did you forget about meeting up to study? - TB** _

 

_**Oh I am so sorry I'll be might hare - AP** _

 

_Well, clearly someone's had a bad day if their autocorrect's that bad._ The snark was lacking though, due to hunger and an impatient concern. Regardless of how the tenor was acting when he showed up, a trip to the vending machine was beginning to sound like it'd soon be in order.

 

Though, when Andy finally came by, all thoughts of eating went out the window.

 

The younger teen looked out of sorts, quietly walking about in a drained daze. It wasn't the kind of lighthearted stupor that overtook someone when they were enjoying life or being deviantly mischievous in some regard. Rather, it was an apathetic oblivion - one that informed Thomas that his friend had been having more than just a "bad day".

 

"What happened?" Thomas is normally more clever than this, typically making far slyer inquiries. But he's worried and hungry and Andy doesn't look like he's ever going to talk about it if they beat around the bush.

 

"Nothing." Ah, the mutterings of denial - a form of communication Thomas was only too familiar with.

 

"I'm not going to help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." He's only known the other teen for a short while in comparison to practically everyone else in this school, barring Elsie Hughes. And, though it's only been a year or two, the tenor looked worryingly defeated about something - to the point where Thomas wanted to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later.

 

"Can we leave it alone? Please?"

 

It's the pleading tone that gets to the baritone.

 

"For now, yes. But, don't think I'm gonna forget about this."

 

Andy looked up at this, recognizing Thomas's sincerity. And, even though he'd never say it, he did appreciate the subject being dropped for the time being.

 

They'd talked about it, true. But, for right now, the younger teen didn't have to worry about Thomas possibly agreeing with Mrs. Butte or being told he's being stupid for taking it so personally.

 

All he had to worry about now was working on not messing up his grade in his next class.

 

Far easier in comparison.

 

_._

 

The end of the day had never seen quite so tiring before.

 

And, unlike normal, it was only to get more so for one Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson.

 

_._

 

The sun seemed cheerfully mocking as her own dark feelings reminded her of what needed to be said.

 

"Mr. Carson," They'd been walking for a few minutes, content to enjoy the silence of the spring with one another's company.

 

However, to carry on in silence for too long would be a mistake - even if it provided them a few moments of bliss.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She closed her eyes briefly, hoping this would go as well as it could.

 

"I have been very appreciative of the time we've spent together, really, I have been." He stiffened, not liking the sound of this. "But, I can't let these walks continue right now. Not with everything else going on."

 

They came to an unwilling stop, unpleasantly standing on the pavement and taking in the unending rays of sunlight as he tried to process yet another surprise.

 

"Why not?" She bit her lip at this, having been searching for the appropriate words ever since she realized the problem.

 

The route Elsie's mind was leading her down was not one of how life's unpredictability may be trying to set them free or any sort of equivalent. Far from it: she truly wanted to spend as much time with him in any possible capacity and she believed he wanted the same.

 

Rather, the route her thoughts traversed was one that wanted to do whatever "this" was right. This was a line of thought fueled by the desire to know that - at the end of the day - their relationship stemmed from proper principles and true integrity. That they both neither compromised their values nor acted against their beliefs.

 

"I have enjoyed these walks and our conversations, yes. But, I don't want to,"

 

Oh, what was a word that would reach him and make sure he understood her perspective?

 

"I don't want you to ever feel that I 'inveigled' you into an arrangement that would allow me to stay at Downton – if I am to be the one that stays on."

 

"I would never think that!" Charles vehemently opposed the idea in less than a heartbeat, knowing without a shred of doubt that – whatever his final decision was – it was not going to be based on anything other than how the two women were are musicians and teachers.

 

Elsie knew that he meant it. But she also knew that society could be cruel, especially when it came to observing these sorts of situations.

 

And  _that_  would be far more damaging in the end. To continue any sort of progression with their relationship at such a time would only leave them open to merciless scrutiny. Which would in turn leave them both with a misunderstanding of what was truly reality when it came to their relationship. So, whether they wanted to or not, they'd eventually absorb the harsh perspectives of others. And, soon enough, an insecurity would stake a claim on the foundation of their relationship - following future decisions and beliefs with a vexing ease.

 

Therefore, regardless of what they both knew to be true, they weren't thinking the matter through.

 

"And if there are second doubts or concerns from the others? If you decide that Mrs. Butte is to leave, we will be under close scrutiny if it appears that that decision did not clearly come from a place of integrity."

 

Charles suspired in a heavy breath at this, hardly able to release the frustration and disappointment that had been weighing him down ever since Cora's meeting with him. Such a feeling made it difficult to not wonder if Elsie wasn't interested in expanding this relationship - if he had somehow disappointed her by only suggesting walks and nothing more.

 

"Are you having your own doubts about the matter?"

 

Elsie's eyes meet his, mustering as much authenticity and truth into her steely gaze as she began to firmly answer.

 

"Not in the slightest."

 

Well, that quashed his doubts about her feelings. The intensity of feeling and clarity of thought those dazzling blue eyes reflected did indeed show just how true her words were. And, as he continued to steadily hold her gaze, Charles could feel some of the constricting weight leave him.

 

But, he couldn't concede the matter - not yet.

 

"Then, why stop this now?"

 

_When we all we've truly done is walk together in effort to further enjoy each other's company, why not allow that to progress?_

 

"I want you to continue holding onto the honor and integrity that raises the tone of these choirs. And if you were to lose that because of me, I would not never forgive myself." For he would. Whether he wanted to or not, he'd unwittingly lose those two beautiful qualities if they continued developing their relationship at this time.

 

But Charles spotted a flaw in that line of thinking.

 

"If we stop all interaction now, it'll look as though we are guilty of something."

 

"If we continue as is, we will be." He stilled, knowing what she hinted at and not liking the implication that they wouldn't be able control their actions. "We don't have to completely ignore each other for the next two weeks – heaven knows that's a terrible idea. But,"

 

Ms. Hughes took a step back, creating a wall of distance between them as she continued.

 

"We need to make sure that integrity and honor is maintained, not only for us but for the choirs. And Mrs. Butte's suggestion," As much as there was something she didn't like about the idea, "Looks to be the best way of doing as such. And, let's face it: we cannot set any sort of example for the choirs if we appear to accept her idea but refuse to take its unbiased solution to heart."

 

She hadn't wanted to bring up their students, but she also knew he wouldn't be able to ignore or logic away anything involving them.

 

And, so, they stood in a stifling silence as the sun continued to glare down on them - illuminating every detail before them. Their gazes still held one another as she watched his thoughts form into action, as unpleasant resolution took hold of the pair.

 

"This is going to be a very difficult two weeks, isn't it?"

 

Though, even as he spoke, Mr. Carson was already beginning to withdraw– much as he didn't care to. Retreating back into a demeanor that brimmed only with professionalism, he started to once more resemble the reserved colleague she'd met four months ago.

 

"It is."

 

She, too, was beginning to once more pull herself back into an attitude of proper behavior - forcing her features to became far more aloof as her demeanor became guarded.

 

"And you're sure this needs to happen?"

 

It was his one last attempt to put aside the principles of the situation - something that she knew they'd both always regret. It wasn't really in their nature to be so reckless about their respective values. To do as such would inevitably ruin their relationship and most certainly damage the choirs of Downton.

 

And so, it was with eyes that were already so weary of the situation looming before them, that she quietly answered:

 

"You already know the answer to that."

 

Yes.

 

Yes, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another taste of drama!
> 
> Also, to anyone who may find that Mrs. Butte's encounter with Andy to be unrealistically harsh - her encounter is a combination of encounters I've witnessed before. Still, keep in that Thomas is going to be rather stubborn about finding out what happened.
> 
> And finally, I am equally happy to say that all the moments Elsie spends teaching are also inspired by previous encounters with the "Mrs. Hughes" of my choir experiences. The advice she shares with the choirs is definitely advice I have received. And it's wisdom I feel should be passed on whenever possible :)


	7. Plotting and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay and for the lack of length. The rest of the chapters that have already been worked on/published on ff.net will soon be posted here as well.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, there will be references and hints to not only Downton but also another British fandom :) All of that will be explained by the end, if anything.

Come Friday morning, the details had been sorted out among the choir teachers in regards to how they'd be running this "trial run" for Elsie and Emma. The former would be going first in the line-up, the latter would be getting the chance to be in charge the following week. They'd have a choice in what they decided to work on and, while Mr. Carson would be staying in the room the whole time, the choir director had agreed to refrain from interrupting the class at any time.

 

Everything considered, it was a solid means of measuring the two teachers in comparison to what Charles had been originally intending - which had been to email all his friends who teach choirs and hope for the best. Instead of that, there was now a concrete plan that would allow for a proper evaluation of the situation.

 

And, as luck for the choirs would have it, that wasn't the only plan being made.

 

_._

 

Thomas calmly walked with Andy to the tenor's first rehearsal of the day - the Bass Choir rehearsal. Ever since the tenor had told Thomas what Mrs. Butte had said, the baritone was determined to accompany his friend to any activity where he'd possibly encounter the teacher.

 

Today, however, Mrs. Butte seemed nowhere in sight just yet.

 

"Thank you for coming with me today." The grateful mutter was almost lost to the baritone: he had noticed something else, something that was just as peculiar as Mrs. Butte's absence.

 

Matthew Crawley appeared to be paying the second fourth floor an early visit as well.

 

"You're welcome." Thomas responded, years of practice allowing him to overhear the other conversation without losing track of the one before him. "And if she gives you any trouble, text me."

 

"Okay." Andy agreed, not happy about possibly interacting with his least favorite teacher - but a little mollified by Thomas agreeing to be there for him. After a few seconds of staring into the classroom and bracing himself for the worse, he entered 402 - prepared to take on another school day.

 

As he left, Thomas pretended to busy himself with checking his texts and emails - all the while shamelessly eavesdropping on the fascinating conversation. It didn't always work as a tactic, seeing as how most people typically thought him to be someone not to have private conversations around.

 

However, in this instance, the pair speaking seemed to be oblivious.

 

"And you're sure she hasn't said anything this week?" Matthew was speaking in a low voice to one Charles Blake. The baritone in question looked around, as though to check for anyone listening in.

 

Thomas was doing as such, of course. But, thankfully for him, he still avoided detection. It was the joy of being able to stand several meters away and maintain the attitude of "I'm not going to class until that first bell rings, that's how done I am with the day." Such an attitude did tend to act as a shield of sorts, almost though it were a curtain that he could hide behind wherever he liked.

 

"She's done nothing of the sort as far as I can tell. Not in front of the class, anyway."

 

The tenor gave a bemused nod at this, piquing Thomas's interest. The teen never looked quite so taciturn, even if he wasn't one for general exuberance.

 

"Well, the second she does something, you let me know." Charles agreed to do just that, before the sudden appearance of Mr. Carson forced all three singers to start scattering to wherever they were supposed to go next.

 

"Matthew, Thomas, what brings you to the second fourth floor?" Thomas took this as a chance to insert himself into the curious conversation he'd been overhearing.

 

"Nothing much, Mr. Carson. We had a question for Mrs. Hughes, but we can tell she's busy." The baritone easily lied before his schoolmate could say anything else.

 

Matthew looked at Thomas with slight curiosity, wondering if his classmate had overheard his conversation. Thomas returned the curiosity with a knowing look that informed the tenor they'd be discussing something once they escaped the choir director's domain.

 

"Yes. And it was a question that can wait for class, so we'll just ask when we come back." Mr. Carson didn't look quite convinced, but Matthew was already guiding them into one of the stairwells. "See you later, Mr. Carson!"

 

He kept watching the pair of teens until they were well out of sight, having never witnessed a friendly interaction between them before.

 

_Though, perhaps Elsie would know-_ The thought trailed off as he remember they would have to stop conversing quite so frequently for the next few weeks. With such a disheartening realization bringing him back into 402, he started to forget the interaction between the two teens had even occurred.

 

Little did he know, that interaction was just getting started.

 

_._

 

"I take it you also weren't there just to ask Mrs. Hughes something," Matthew wryly remarked as he observed Thomas. They were concealing their conversation, of all places, on one of the busiest floors in the building. Using the obnoxious chatter and gossip surrounding them, the two teens discreetly held their mutual interrogation.

 

"You could say that." The baritone said, having never witnessed this calculating side of the Crawley before.

 

"So what did bring you there?"

 

"I should be asking the same of you."

 

"Yes, but I did ask first." Thomas smirked at this, not believing that such a childish tactic was being used by one who seemed to be so above all that.

 

"Why don't we agree that we both had our reasons and that, based your request to Blake, they run in a similar vein?"

 

Matthew could've feigned ignorance to the request Thomas brought up. But, that not only didn't suit the teen, it also wouldn't have helped the situation.

 

"Alright." The tenor fixed a thoughtful look upon his classmate. "Would that also imply that you currently have an issue with someone within the choirs?"

 

"You could say that." Thomas repeated, garnering an annoyed scowl from Matthew. "Let's just say that I 'have an issue' with someone who really doesn't have the right in the first place."

 

"Cryptic." Matthew remarked, feeling as though he were back at Carlisle Institute and surrounded by unnecessary enigmas. "Does this someone have a name?"

 

Thomas leaned in, deciding to cast caution to the winds. Something told him he could and probably should trust the teen before him.

 

The name of the teacher in question was quietly murmured, almost lost to the cacophony of conversation surrounding them.

 

_._

 

As he heard the name of the "Emma Butte", a conundrum solidified.

 

"I see." Matthew took this information in, turning it over in his mind.

 

He himself had a problem: Tom had warned him that Thomas was clever, that he could be a decent person when it suited him but that the baritone was also quite self-motivated as a whole. That he might help their cause with Mrs. Butte, but that he'd probably ask for something in return.

 

Therefore, it was a dangerous game to play, depending on what Thomas's motivations and inclinations. As well as, if he were saying Butte's name because he'd overheard them before or if he were genuinely disinterested in the woman.

 

"Yeah." The baritone responded, his eyes reflecting a strong dislike that seemed hard to fake. "She said something I don't care for, I'm saying she doesn't have to stick around."

 

Matthew nodded, getting the impression that Thomas really didn't seem to care for the teacher. Still, there's a difference between apathy and dislike.

 

"What if I told you I'm in the process of informing someone in authority about some of the-"

 

"If you had enough proof for Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson, she'd be gone." Matthew watched as his classmate fixed him with a stare, unimpressed. "Luckily for you, I've got something."

 

_._

 

"Really?"

 

Thomas looked off towards the crowds surrounding, doing his very best to appear as bored and disinterested as possible. It wouldn't do for his classmate to know just how much he wanted Mrs. Butte gone.

 

"Yeah." He glanced back at the teen, before looking back at the crowd. "But it's not enough."

 

Thomas internally smirked as Matthew sighed a bit, looking as though he wanted to roll his eyes in frustration at this.

 

"Then why bring it up?"

 

"Because it's a start. And it's probably more than anything you've got."

 

"How could you possibly know that?" This time he did smirk, unable to resist.

 

"Because if you had something, you wouldn't be asking other students to report to you." Like Charles Blake, for instance. "But you should keep at it, all the same."

 

"And why's that?"

 

_._

 

Matthew observed as something dark flickered in Thomas's eyes as the teen fixed his gaze on the crowd. Something shifted in the baritone's posture, that much he could tell. And that something was somehow both indecipherable but also apparent.

 

"One's not enough."

 

The coldly spoken words told Matthew that this probably wasn't Thomas's first encounter with such an authority figure. That they probably had had similar experiences with the Emma Butte's of the world.

 

_._

 

"Matthew, what are you doing here?" Sybil Crawley approached them, having spotted them in the crowd. "Oh, hello, Thomas."

 

But, Thomas was already making his departure and leaving the pair alone by the time she made it over to them.

 

"What was that all about?" She curiously asked, watching her classmate swiftly retreat while her friend stood there.

 

"It appears Thomas is inclined to help us." Matthew informed her, "Have you or Anna been able to spot anymore trouble?"

 

"I think Filch," For that was their code name for this particular teacher, "Has been speaking to a few students, but nobody's said anything to me. Anna might be having better luck, but I'd have to check. And, I think she's going to try to get Phyllis to help with Bel Canto if she hasn't already."

 

"What about the beginners?"

 

"I've been speaking to one of the girls, Isabel Johnson, who thinks Mrs. Butte said something to a friend. But, the friend's hesitant to speak up and Isabel won't tell me who it is."

 

"Understood." Most of them probably thought that it wouldn't make a difference. And, it really wouldn't - unless they did come forth. Only once the matter was brought into the open could it properly resolved. "Well, don't push them, but do encourage them to speak up."

 

"Why? What's happened?"

 

Matthew briefly glanced in Thomas's direction, though the baritone was long gone by this point.

 

"Nothing's happened just yet, but I suspect something will soon." She nodded, not really caring for the enigmatic tone but also remembering what Matthew had told her from the second they started this:

 

In order to properly resolve the matter, they couldn't afford to go charging in. They needed a plan and they needed to think it all through to the best of their ability.

 

"Have you had a chance to speak to Quirrell about Filch's rules?" It had been more than a week since Matthew mentioned he'd be bringing it up to the teacher in question, after all.

 

"I wanted to talk to Quirrell today after rehearsal, but we'll have to see."

 

"And we're still not going to involve Sirius?" Matthew shook his head.

 

"Sirius would need more evidence before doing anything, and Mary's told me it'd work in our favor to refrain from doing that just yet."

 

"So, Mary wants to help?"

 

"Not quite. But, she is starting to see that Mrs. Butte is being harsher than what's acceptable."

 

"Well, that's a start." Sybil muttered, as the bell rang - signalling the official start of school. "I suppose I'll see you later."

 

"See you later- wait, Sybil!" He'd been so caught up in this drama that he'd forgotten to ask something. "What did they think of the fundraising ideas?"

 

She brightened at this, that action informing him of what she'd soon be saying.

 

"They'll actually be announcing all of that in class today!" He beamed in return, pleased that at least that was going successfully. "Well, I'll see you later!"

 

"See you later," He echoed, picking up the pace as he started to head towards the first class of the day.

 

_._

 

"As you all already know,"

 

Elsie watched in a tired fashion, maintaining her spot in the corner of 402, as Charles began to inform the choirs of the fundraising situation. Needless to say, with all of the ups and downs of the last few weeks, she was a little worn out.

 

"There had been a plan to travel to Carnegie Hall later this semester and participate in a choral competition. Now, unfortunately,"

 

Here's hoping that the students don't fall apart at the seams. And, here's hoping that they don't get caught up in the fact that the choir money won't be a guarantee.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes,"

 

"Thomas," She mustered a smile, genuinely wanting to help him develop as a singer and knowing that a solo could help do just that. "What can I do for you?"

 

Yes, Elsie did want to help him. But, it just so happened that the woman woke up this morning feeling inexplicably drained and unusually worn out. She had a weary daze that accompanied her as she continued to skim for any possible jobs. And, even though the choir took the fundraising news well, there was still a heavy air about the day. A fog of sorts that couldn't be lifted no matter what she tried.

 

"Well, there's two things I'd like to ask, Mrs. Hughes." She's not really taken aback that he's got two questions, but she is curious.

 

"And what exactly are those two things?"

 

"Well, of course, I would like to sing a solo." Elsie nodded, mentally scanning the possible songs. "But, I was also wondering if I could still join the a cappella choir."

 

She stumbled in her thoughts, not having been convinced she heard him right even as she responds.

 

"It's never too late to join," The words are coming out before she can even think, but she means them all the same. Especially once she sees a spark of something in his gaze - something that says he hadn't been expecting any opportunity in this regard.

 

"And I think I have a song already in mind."

 

Thomas raised an eyebrow, surprised that she's got a possible plan when he's only just mentioned the idea. But, she's past discussion: she's heading into the stacks.

 

"Have you ever heard of, 'I Attempt From Love's Sickness To Fly'? By Henry Purcell?"

 

"It rings a bell," It's not really so much of a confession as it is a half-truth. The song title does sound a bit familiar, but he couldn't really place it anywhere in particular.

 

"How familiar does this sound?" The choir teacher, as she took a deep and silent breath.

 

_"I attempt from love's sickness_

_To fly,"_

 

Her voice dances on the notes surrounding "fly", swooping up and down with a vocal dexterity he hadn't heard in a long time.

 

_"In vain._

_For I am myself own fever_

_And pain."_

 

"Sounds," Dramatic comes to mind but doesn't seem appropriate. "Interesting."

 

She gave a thin smile at this, somehow knowing what he was thinking.

 

"It is, isn't it?"

 

_._

 

Before Matthew had a chance to think a thorough plan out, the a cappella rehearsal is already upon him. He barely had a moment to think anything through - Thomas's interaction from earlier, the announcement about Carnegie and fundraising, etc. - before it was time for one last rehearsal.

 

"Matthew," She was ahead of schedule, approaching him far sooner than the tenor anticipated. "Mr. Carson mentioned that you and Thomas had a question for me?"

 

"We actually had two different questions, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas oh-so-helpfully piped up, having now joined the rehearsals. "But I already asked mine."

 

"I see," The woman neutrally remarked, not really having the same archly response that was so typical of her.

 

Honestly, that lack of response struck Matthew as somewhat concerning. Still, he couldn't allow another week to pass by without any action.

 

"It's just, I was confused by Mrs. Butte's rules - seeing as how none of them were listed in the syllabus?"

 

"Her rules?" Elsie asked, neutrality easily replaced by confusion. Their previous conversation was beginning to be recalled for her, but the fog of the day still made it exceptionally difficult to fully concentrate. "Can you tell me more about these rules once rehearsal has concluded?"

 

"Certainly," Matthew smartly replied, almost looking forward to sharing this information.

 

_._

 

William wasn't able to make it up to 402 to ask for a solo after that first day he tried. No matter what, something would come up and he'd be unable to visit Mrs. Hughes to ask.

 

Which is why he was now attempting to stay a little later than anticipated. Because even if she didn't allow him a solo - since he didn't come by sooner - he at least had to try.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Matthew, the only other student still in the room, had been in the process of talking with the teacher in question. However, upon realizing William was still there, it looked as though he'd changed his mind when it came to talking.

 

"I can wait, Mrs. Hughes," The singer said, allowing his classmate a chance to speak with the woman. At such a comment, William almost felt impertinent for interrupting.

 

But, one look at Mrs. Hughes's now proud face and all thoughts of feeling impertinent immediately left. Instead, a happy feeling of personal achievement - the fact that he was actually about to request a solo for the first time ever - came.

 

_._

 

After William eagerly departed the second fourth floor, a copy of "The Ash Grove" safely captured within his grasp, it became time for the truth to start slipping into reality.

 

"Now, then," She had a feeling she wasn't going to like whatever would be coming next. But it'd hardly be the first time this week. And, if there was one thing Elsie Hughes treasured it was honesty. "What are these 'rules' you speak of?"

 

"Well, Mrs. Butte had been strict on a few things. But three rules in particular were that we are never to talk back, that we follow her instruction to the letter and," Matthew paused, knowing that these first two rules were fairly acceptable. However, it was the third one that he had the most problem with. "And that if we didn't learn our music within the 'appropriate' time, we wouldn't be allowed to compete or even sing at the concert."

 

Elsie silently took this in, not liking the sound of this - or the fact that she was just hearing of these "rules" only now.

 

"It's not just the rules that don't feel quite right, Mrs. Hughes." The tenor continued, knowing he had her attention, "It was also the fact that she said you and Mr. Carson had approved of them in the first place."

 

"Did she now?" He nodded, giving her more food for thought.

 

"I see."

 

"I didn't see any reason to doubt her, however, something still didn't right about the matter. Which is why I wanted to mention this to you."

 

"And when was it that she told you these rules?"

 

"While Mr. Carson was ill." Elsie nodded, certainly not liking the sound of this.

 

Even so, as far as she knew, they were only rules. Unnecessarily strict rules, yes. But no forms of verbal abuse or misconduct of any kind.

 

Nevertheless, that did not mean Elsie wasn't going to keep an eye out in regards to the choirs or the students when it came to Emma - even with the next two weeks being set up in the fashion they currently were.

 

Now, why would she possibly need to do such a thing?

 

Well, oddly enough, Matthew's information did not stun or shock her particularly.

 

Rather, it only confirmed some of her growing suspicions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanation time for the code names! All are from Harry Potter, which I also don't claim to own. Here goes the explanation:
> 
> Filch is Mrs Butte. As my flatmate and I thought this over, we realized that teenagers in this situation would want to give someone like Emma a code name that isn't kind but isn't too obvious. Therefore, Filch - who is shown to be judgmental and unkind to students - seemed to be a good choice.
> 
> When thinking the matter over with Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, it only seemed right to give them ironic code names. Which is why Mrs. Hughes is going to be called "Quirrell" and Mr. Carson is to be called "Sirius". Not only is she not anything like Professor Quirrell, he'd be horrified to be compared to Sirius Black - which just makes for a hilarious situation.
> 
> As always, your support is really appreciated and I hope you're enjoying the story as we continue to progress. And, furthermore, I hope you have a great day :)


	8. Vexing Remarks and Flustering Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still in drama-land and things of that nature, but I hope this chapter is nice little break. There'll still be hints of plot and things of that nature, but we definitely need some humor.
> 
> And please be aware that there are two previous chapters just published! "Plotting and Plans", as well as "High Flights and Sweet Suggestions"!

On a whim, Charles found himself investigating the auditorium first thing in the morning. While they wouldn't be using the space for quite some time, he felt a sudden urge to inspect the room and double-check its condition. It was an old habit that had been placed aside these last two semesters, but one that should probably be brought back.

 

And, after the afternoon he'd had yesterday - listening to the incessant back and forth of Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Crawley - he certainly could use the distraction.

 

Though, now that he was walking through the place without any of the house lights on - let alone any lights in general - the choir director felt this might have been a mistake. For once, the place struck him as rather eerie, the air filled with something he didn't quite like that.

 

But, enough of that introspection. He could hear the sound of something, something that was just disconcerting as the air itself.

 

"Hello?"

 

His firm voice was unwillingly absorbed into the atmosphere, as the noise increased. Unfortunately, with such a room, it was difficult to pinpoint just where the sound was coming from.

 

And, after a moment,

 

"What the?" Before he knew it, trickles of some sort of liquid were brushing up against his feet. It wasn't water. It was some sort of sickening oil, a type of fluid that was not only pervasive in smell but seemed to absorb anything in sight. "Hello?"

 

Having looked around to find out where the oil was coming from, Charles realized that the trickles were rapidly growing into currents. And that, if he were careful, the stage area would indeed start to flood - quite possibly for the first time in decades.

 

Yet, this was familiar. This didn't feel like this were the first time he'd been in this situation.

 

But in all of his years as director, never before had a problem like this occurred.

 

The oil grew in volume and sound, making it difficult to stay perfectly still as everything became more chaotic in its grasp. The chairs of the auditorium were soon disappearing, the level of the oil rising to soon surpass his waist.

 

"Mr. Carson," He turned towards the direction of the voice, not being able to see just who was speaking with such turbulent tides starting to drag him about. "Mr. Carson, I'm afraid you're already too late."

 

For a moment, it sounded like Elsie.

 

But, over the rushing noises now invading the room, it could have been Emma.

 

And turning towards the sound only resulted in one thing:

 

_._

 

Charles hastily woke up to discover that it was 6:53 in the morning and he was very behind schedule.

 

He didn't understand what prompted the dream, or why it felt so familiar.

 

All he knew was that something was wrong.

 

_._

 

She quietly crept up the stairs, having snuck into the building more than thirty minutes before classes were to start. Truly, there was a certain hint of deviant glee that accompanied Sarah's step as she furtively made her way up to the second fourth floor.

 

See, even though Ms. Hughes seemed to be somewhat of a decent person, there were several things that the alto took issue with the woman. One of which was, as Mrs. Butte reminded her at lunch only yesterday, how Ms. Hughes had tendency to believe her word was the rule. That, as well as her unspoken belief that she knew what was best for the choirs, even though they'd been managing perfectly well without her for several years.

 

Not only that, but the woman had the gall to give Sarah a solo that was very ill fitting for a variety of reasons: the high notes were not nearly as challenging as she wanted, the depressing mood and required breath support frankly irritating, and the never-ending complaints of grief and misery within "Flow My Tears" were so over-the-top that the alto was not impressed.

 

Therefore, it was quite easy to spend the previous afternoon thinking of ways that would result in Mrs. Hughes being knocked down a peg. Such as setting her binder up so as to ensure all the music sheets would fall out the second she opened it. Or, better still, creating a slippery surface where the woman conducted so that she'd end up falling and make a fool of herself.

 

It wasn't like she'd deliberately set out soap or something to trip her. But, a fall of some kind and the ensuing embarrassment would certainly be enough to fluster the woman. And, if that was accompanied by her unintentionally getting locked out of the room at some point, it'd definitely create enough mortification to knock her off her game.

 

That as well as getting some of her friends, or rather the people who owed her favors, to be obnoxious during their respective class could only result in showing Ms. Hughes's incompetency and ensuring the woman's departure. And that, as Mrs. Butte implied yesterday yesterday, would result in everything going back to the way it was. No more  _a cappella_ choir nonsense, no more Thomas ditching her so he could learn some stupid solo, and certainly no more of Ms. Hughes's holier-than-thou attitude.

 

So, it was with a smirk that Sarah finally brought herself up to the entrance of the second fourth floor. She silently opened the door that led to the hallway, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone and her ears opened to eavesdropping. The teachers were probably here but, with any luck, she could slip in and out of the rooms without detection.

 

Carefully making her way to one of the two entrances into 402, the alto kept a beady gaze about her as she slowly began to turn the doorknob and open the door.

 

"Miss O'Brien? What brings you to the choir rooms this early?"

 

Several choice words were begging to be released as Sarah managed to avoid jolting in the presence of one Violet Crawley. None of those words were spoken as the young woman desperately tried to maintain a calm and collected demeanor, mentally backtracking her thoughts from the route they'd been travelling.

 

"Mrs. Crawley," The alto started to speak, bewildered by the woman's sudden appearance.

 

"Sarah?" Never before had she been so relieved to hear Ms. Hughes's voice. "Is everything alright?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I just had a question about the solo."

 

"At this hour? Whatever for?" Violet appeared to not have an interest in buying that particular lie, much to Sarah's irritation that she was now forcing into cordiality.

 

"I was wondering about the ending. Did you want me to do the repeat or leave it as is?" Ms. Hughes didn't seem particularly impressed by Sarah outright ignoring Mrs. Crawley's question, but she still answered in any case.

 

"I would prefer the repeat to be included, yes. However, were you having a problem with it?"

 

"Not in the least," Which wasn't necessarily true, but the alto was not interested in saying as such - not now.

 

"Because if you were, I'm more than happy to mark the sheet music as such." Sarah shook her head, regretting the fact that she said it wasn't difficult. "Would you like to practice it now? See how it sounds altogether?"

 

"Oh, is that really necessary?" Violet interjected, a hint of patronization in her tone. "Wouldn't it be more preferable to rehearse later in the day?"

 

"Actually, Mrs. Hughes," She wasn't foolish enough to call her by the title Mrs. Butte preferred - not in her presence, at least. "I have to go study for a test today."

 

"Very well. But, if you're having any problems let me know." Sarah nodded, managing to hide her irritation at the situation rather well as she began to take her leave.

 

So, not only did Ms. Hughes apparently think her incompetent, Sarah never had a chance to follow through on her original mission. And she wouldn't get chance to finish it now, seeing as how the Old Bat look quite situated in her chair.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. See you in class." It was the only thing she could say, all things considered.

 

_._

 

"Now, then," Violet turned back to her current victim- her current companion, fixing her gaze on Elsie. "I do believe you were in the process of elaborating on the choir's plans are for the 'Best of Downton'."

 

"Mrs. Crawley," Elsie's patience was beginning to wane. She was also now regretting the fact that she had tried to take advantage of Charles's absence - he couldn't ban her from overworking on the accompaniments if he wasn't in the room. But, it seemed even when he wasn't here, she still would be unable to rehearse. "I'm afraid I don't know what the choir's plans are for the 'Best of Downton'."

 

Truly, this showcase they'd apparently be putting on later in the semester was not something she'd ever heard about until this morning. Nor was it something that she was particularly interested, to be quite candid.

 

At least, not until this staffing issue was solved and she knew where she stood in the matter. Not to mention the fundraising for the choir.

 

"I see." The unspoken judgement in those two words vexed Elsie to no end, but she held her tongue. She knew better than to say as such. "I suppose I should have known better than to have allowed Isobel, of all individuals, to be in charge of announcing such an event."

 

Seeing as how Elsie rather liked Isobel Crawley, it was getting difficult to remain silent on the matter.

 

"Yes, well, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the matter to me." The teacher politely remarked, "I might be able to recall if Mr. Carson has mentioned such an event."

 

Violet gave her another undecipherable look, one that she decided wasn't worth the energy.

 

"In an effort to showcase the talents of our academy, it has been suggested that a performance featuring select staff and students be put together. Therefore, at 7 o'clock on the 22nd of March, the 'Best of Downton' will commence."

 

Elsie gave a nod, taking in the information. For some reason, that date seemed important - or maybe it was around the time of something important. But, no matter; Violet was still speaking.

 

"We would, of course, like to have at least one faculty member from each section of the music department perform. As well as at least one student soloist, if not a small ensemble."

 

"Of course." The assent came easily, seeing as how it all made sense.

 

"Perhaps you would be so inclined as to offer your singing talents for the performance? I hear you've had quite the career, according to Mr. Carson." There's something knowing in that tone when Violet mentions Mr. Carson, but Elsie doesn't have the patience currently to deal with assumptions. Especially since she's more focused on the request to sing.

 

"Mrs. Crawley, I would rather discuss the matter with my colleagues before making such a decision."

 

"Naturally," Violet looked up, now eyeing the door with faint amusement. "Here comes Mr. Carson right now."

 

_._

 

Charles didn't know just why Elsie looked so relieved and frazzled by his appearance. At an outward glance, she seemed perfectly alright. But, there were little signs of feeling harrowed that he, at the very least, could see. Her eyes held hints of relief, her faint smile looking just a little less tired now that he was here.

 

In that moment, even if Mrs. Crawley were still in the room, he wanted more than ever to be able to do more than just converse.

 

Alas, conversing really was the only thing he could do.

 

"Good morning, Mrs. Crawley," Why the administrator was already here, he hadn't a clue. She had only mentioned she'd be dropping by sometime later this week, not that she'd be visiting today. "Good morning, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"Good morning, Mr. Carson." Elsie evenly replied, not allowing even one clue of her feelings to color her voice. "Have you seen Mrs. Butte yet?"

 

"I think she was only a few minutes away." He turned to Mrs. Crawley, but she was already beginning to speak.

 

"Yes, well, we were in the process of agreeing that Mrs. Hughes should have the privilege of performing in the 'Best of Downton'." He restrained the pride that was threatening to burst at the sound of that.

 

"However," Elsie interrupted, unintentionally giving a little proof that this was more of Mrs. Crawley's idea than it was hers. "I was of the belief that we should discuss it as a group."

 

"Discuss what as a group?" Ah, good, Emma was here.

 

"Who should perform at the student/faculty showcase in March - the 'Best of Downton'."

 

"Oh, I'm sure Mrs. Hughes is more than capable of regaling us all with a beautiful solo." Emma responded, garnering a nod of approval from Charles.

 

"I had actually been thinking that you would be a more appropriate choice, Mrs. Butte."

 

_._

 

As Elsie spoke, she kept a careful eye on her colleagues. And, it was true: in the precious few seconds she'd been given to think the matter over, Mrs. Butte was the first choice. It would not only keep the woman just a bit busier, it would also give Elsie a reprieve from performing.

 

While it was true that she had once taken to singing solos quite eagerly, it was equally true that the idea of returning as a soloist didn't hold the same appeal it once did. Ever since Joe passed, performing solos seemed a little lackluster. Teaching them was a treat, sharing the knowledge was rather enjoyable. But, singing solos and taking the limelight was not something she took as much pleasure in doing.

 

"Me?" Emma seemed shocked, more than stunned to say the least.

 

"Of course," Elsie said, with enough conviction that even Violet was drawn in. "I have heard your voice when they do the warm-ups - it's quite a lovely sound. One that I can already tell will do ample justice to any song."

 

"I couldn't possibly," The woman began to speak, almost spluttering by this point.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Well," Mrs. Butte drawled out, seeming to consider the idea just as Elsie though she might. "I suppose, in order to set an example for the students, it is essentially my duty to perform when I can."

 

Violet glowered a bit at this statement, even though she kept silent. Unfortunately, when it came to the choirs, she did not always have the authority to dictate her exact wishes.

 

"Well, I'm sure you must have much to see to today, Mrs. Crawley," Elsie said, turning to the woman.

 

_._

 

"Actually, the only task I will be 'seeing to' is observing the choirs rehearse."

 

Charles had a feeling Mrs. Crawley would be remarking as such, even though they hadn't officially agreed to anything of the sort.

 

What he wouldn't be able to foresee was Elsie sending him a look when Violet's back was eventually turned. Said look informed him that he would be hearing about this later - whether that was two hours or two days from now.

 

_._

 

"Oh, but why not consider working on 'Bloom'? 'It Had To Be You' is a lovely song, however, 'Bloom' is by far prettier."

 

For the Bel Canto choir, they rarely got to witness their teacher act flustered or off-balanced. And, though she maintained her composure rather well, it was still clear that Violet Crawley's remarks were having an effect.

 

"Well, we've already spent quite a good amount of time working on 'Bloom', Mrs. Crawley. To the point where I feel confident about moving on to 'It Had To Be You'."

 

The older woman did a bit of a double-take at this, not used to her suggestions being challenged by anyone other Isobel Crawley.

 

"Oh, I see."

 

It looked as though Elsie was struggling to remain quiet on the matter, wanting to say something more. Little did the Bel Canto choir know, she'd been battling these sorts of questions for almost two hours now.

 

"Now, ladies, if you would be so kind as to flip to the appropriate song."

 

"Well, I'm not so sure it  _is_  the 'appropriate' song," The dignified murmur came from the back, poking at the choice in music.

 

_Elsie Hughes, you will not sigh or scoff or roll your eyes at this ridiculous woman. You will conduct your choir and that will be that._

 

**_._**

 

"Well, I'm sure you must be off to lunch, Mrs. Crawley," Emma lightly remarked, quite tickled by the day's events.

 

"Actually, my personal chef has prepared me a meal for lunch." Violet primly responded, "And she will be bringing it up from the school cafeteria any minute now."

 

"Oh, how wonderful!" Mrs. Butte responded, genuinely smiling at the thought.

 

"Did you have a hand in this?" Elsie muttered to Charles, watching Emma and Violet continue to converse.

 

Somehow, the man had a feeling that - whatever his response - it would be the wrong one.

 

**_._**

 

"You mean to tell me that Hughes is on her way out?" Thomas didn't really believe it, to be honest. If anything, he figured Mrs. Butte would be the first to go.

 

"According to Mrs. Butte, at least." Sarah muttered. She still wasn't convinced that this really was the case. But, with Mrs. Butte's conversation yesterday, she was certain that this would work in her favor. "And she'll be gone by Mid-February by the latest."

 

"Excuse me," Gladys Denker's voice put a halt to any conversation as the alto eagerly inserted herself between the pair. "But did I overhear that dear Ms. Hughes will be leaving our fine institution in only a few weeks time?"

 

"What's it to you?" Thomas snarked, not in the mood for the rumor to start spreading around the news like wildfire. And, if it really were the case, he could hardly use it for possible leverage if the whole school already knew about it.

 

"Nothing, nothing." Gladys murmured in a very sugary voice, raising her hands up and backing away as though she was every bit a good samaritan. "I would simply hate it if such information were withheld from those who deserve to know."

 

"I'm sure you would," He really wasn't in the mood for such pettiness. But, Andy had said he needed some alone time and so Thomas gave his friend the space he needed. That meant that he would be hanging out with Sarah for lunch - seeing as how neither of their solo rehearsals with Mrs. Hughes's were scheduled for today. Which meant that pettiness would eventually be a part of his day, whether he wanted it to be or not.

 

Either way, the Bel Canto singer soon backed off - seeming to be all too willing to give the pair the space they needed. She even left them alone in peace, seeming to be focused on something else.

 

But, of course, looks can be deceiving.

 

"What are you smirking at?" The baritone noticed Sarah's sly facial expression the second Denker left them, causing him to watch his companion's demeanor very carefully.

 

The alto chuckled, eyes drifting in the direction of Gladys and looking rather pleased with herself. She really couldn't have planned that better if she had tried.

 

"You'll see."

 

_._

 

"How goes the fundraising efforts?" It's been ages since she last got to talk about it with Sybil and Gwen. But, by golly, Rose was going to make the most of their lunch.

 

"That's the thing," The Bel Canto singer wearily confessed, "We've not made more than a hundred pounds. And that's only because Sybil mentioned it to her parents."

 

Rose sighed, somewhat frustrated by the lack of progress even as the youngest Crawley sister was beginning to speak for herself.

 

"It's only been a few days since the Go-Fund page has been set up, we've just got to keep trying."

 

"Yeah, well, you'd think we'd have gotten more than that by now."

 

_Well, this attitude won't do._

 

"Have they agreed to a solo showcase?"

 

"Mr. Carson has mentioned that, 'if the soloists prove themselves worthy of such a show', he will be inclined to put arrange the showcase for April."

 

"And the Valentine's day singing? Or, week, rather?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes said that could be doable, so long as the choirs were quite confident on the songs in question."

 

"But we still only have only a hundred pounds?" Rose asked, losing a bit of her usual cheeriness.

 

"We still only have a hundred pounds." Gwen echoed tiredly, staring into what she hoped was going to be a decent lunch. Rose nodded, still thinking the matter over. Surely there was something that could be done, some sort of solution that could be presented.

 

"What if we made a Youtube Channel? Or an Instagram page?"

 

"A Youtube Channel?" "Rose, I don't think that's going to work."

 

"Hear me out," She pleaded, an idea already hatching. "We won't be able to make money off the channel. But, if we recorded a few videos of rehearsals, made a couple of advertisements for future events, worked with some collaborators and influencers in the UK, we could get the word out!"

 

"That sounds like a lot of work," Gwen began to start - though she was soon cut off.

 

"I'm more than happy to try to figure something out! I bet we could really make it work."

 

"You'd have to run it by Mrs. Hughes," Sybil reminded her, "And Mr. Carson and Mrs. Butte, probably."

 

"Though I wouldn't want to do that today," Gwen chimed in. "Not when Mrs. Crawley's paying the choirs a visit."

 

"Right." But, the determined spark in Rose's eyes informed the two ladies that she'd not be put off, not even by Violet Crawley.

 

Well, they'd certainly be in for quite the time, that's for sure.

 

_._

 

" _My dear, is that really the best choice for today's rehearsal? I have some doubts as to whether or not that material holds up to our academy's standards."_

 

" _Are you quite sure you wish to be working on that? It sounds as though 'Silent Noon' is in far more need of repair."_

 

" _I must ask, are you certain that that is what they need to fix?"_

 

" _But, why spend the first ten minutes discussing that? Why not teach them the notes?"_

 

It was with a sigh of relief that Elsie Hughes was able to stop thinking about all of that and finally leave the building.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I-"

 

"Have a nice day, Mr. Carson." It was terse, it was certainly not her smoothest.

 

But, next time,  _he'd_ get the privilege of teaching with Mrs. Crawley in the background. See how he liked that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mrs. Hughes - she needs a break. But, something tells me she's not getting a proper one anytime soon.


	9. Hight Flights and Sweet Suggestions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased to say that things are going to turn in regards to the overall mood. We're still entrenched in drama, make no mistake. But, I'm pleased to say that the tides are changing - so to speak. 
> 
> Also! Definitely make sure that, if you're following the story, you take note of the fact that there is a previous chapter just published -- "Plotting and Plans".
> 
> Enjoy!

For the Bass Choir of Downton Abbey, it was a bit of a shock coming into class first thing Monday morning and seeing Mrs. Hughes standing in Mr. Carson's normal spot. It wasn't that the singers of the Bass Choir had any real issue with the woman - far from it. Rather, it was the fact that she was standing in the conductor's spot while Mr. Carson had taken her usual seat in the back corner of the classroom.

 

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Hughes?" Alfred couldn't help but ask the moment he saw this, not sure as to what this particular change implied for the choir.

 

"Perfectly alright, Alfred." Elsie warmly replied, now feeling quite up for the challenge that the week would be presenting her. Yes, Matthew's concerns from last week had still bothered her thoughts and distracted for much of the last few days. However, further contemplation allowed her to walk into the classroom today with more confidence than she'd anticipated.

 

First and foremost, one of the agreements had been that both she and Mrs. Butte would be able to work on any songs they'd like. Therefore, she could delve into the very songs she'd been wanting to from the start - instead of refraining for Mr. Carson or Mrs. Butte's sake. Secondly, it wasn't as though this was her first day with the choirs - she knew almost all the students very well by this point. Which meant that there wouldn't be the typical adjustments that came with new social dynamics. Thirdly, being in charge meant that she had even more of a voice towards teacher-student interactions - which would greatly decrease Emma's ability to speak towards the students on her own.

 

And finally, at the end of the day, the most important part of this whole ordeal was for the woman to feel as though she'd given it her best shot.

 

Something she had every intention of doing, starting now.

 

_._

 

"Now, gentlemen," Andy looked up, having not realized Mrs. Hughes was standing at the front where Mr. Carson would be. "I do have an announcement to make before we begin."

 

Truthfully, he really didn't have much interest in any announcements. Ever since Mrs. Butte had spoken to him last week, singing hadn't really been his thing. And while Thomas had disagreed with what the teacher had said, when Andy had finally confessed the whole thing to him, there was just one problem: Thomas was only a student. Surely, someone who's been around as long as Mrs. Butte would know the truth.

 

With that in mind, Andy unintentionally tuned out his teacher as she explained that she'd be handling the choirs for the week to "change things up a bit". And he definitely had no energy for listening as she spoke of how, if there were any questions or anything they'd like help with, they were free to ask for her help.

 

It's not like she could really help, in any case. Clearly, if her fellow teachers thought him a lost cause for singing, Mrs. Hughes would undoubtedly agree.

 

_._

 

"Gentlemen," They had warmed up and were just getting into "Let Me Call You Sweetheart", but there was one aspect that she couldn't quite ignore. "While we may be getting off to a good start, there is something I think we could improve."

 

She watched a few of the boys stiffen, as though she were personally reprimanding them for something - an atypical reaction for a normally rambunctious crowd. Still, they'd soon realize it was hardly a reprimand as much as it was well-meaning advice.

 

"It's something I think we're all a little guilty of from time to time," Elsie confessed, "Myself definitely included."

 

Everyone looked up at her, curious as to what she was talking about. Mr. Carson rarely made such conversation during a rehearsal, and Mrs. Butte absolutely did not care for what seemed to be idle chit-chat.

 

"I would like you all to sing the lead part in a second - yes, John?"

 

John Drake had politely raised his hand the second she mentioned a term he was unfamiliar with.

 

"What exactly is the 'lead part', Mrs. Hughes?" She smiled at this, pleased to not only have such curiosity but also to have an opportunity to share a little more of her music knowledge.

 

"The lead is what would normally be the Tenor II part. In the case of barbershop, which is the arrangement we will be working with, the lead part is typically the melody."

 

Questioning faces were still before her, causing the woman to continue with her explanation of the arrangement at hand.

 

"In barbershop music, there are traditionally four parts: the tenor, lead, baritone, and bass. And though I'm sure you recognize the names of the other three parts, it's always nice to have a refresher as to which is which." For somehow, she had a feeling nobody had truly explained just why each part was vital.

 

"The tenor sings the highest notes, almost like they were the icing on a cake. They accentuate the higher range of a song and provide a frosting that's essential. The lead is the overall look and feel of a cake - typically singing the melody, their voice and energy guides the singers as a whole. The baritone, on the other hand, tends to work behind the scenes. Just like the filling of a cake, their voice maneuvers around to fill in the chords and typically create what is a 'true' barbershop sound. And the bass provides a steady foundation on which to build upon - it's the flour or sponge that allows for the flavoring and icing and filling."

 

For many in the Bass Choir, it was the first time they'd encountered one of Elsie's metaphors for singing. After all, even though she'd been their accompanist last semester, they didn't really mean they had much interaction with the woman.

 

Naturally, such an interaction left them rather intrigued as well as very hungry.

 

"And now that I've created an appetite for most of you," She continued with a teasing hint to her voice, "I think it's time we take a crack at that melody. I'll be sure to sing it once to show you and one more time with you so you know the notes for sure."

 

The teenagers before her sat up, waiting to hear the woman attempt the lower notes and preparing to roast her voice later if it indeed cracked like so many other female voices tended to. Luckily for Elsie, the notes of the melody were just barely in her range.

 

" _Let me call you sweetheart,_

_I'm in love with you._

_Let me hear you whisper that_

_You love me, too."_

 

Surprisingly enough, even with all of her resolve to view Mr. Carson only as a colleague for the next two weeks or so, Elsie still had a hard time not looking in his direction as she sang the brief example.

 

"Now you try."

 

The young gentlemen did, the sounds of an unusually hesitant version of melody spilling into the room.

 

"Shall we try that again?"

 

Sheepish grins broke out at this, as they dutifully chorused a stronger version of the classic melody with her.

 

"How about once more, this time without me?"

 

The gentlemen were truly picking it up now, the lyrics now starting to reflect the confidence it deserved.

 

"Excellent!" Elsie encouraged, feeling that they could now start to focus on tweaking one aspect. "Now, sing it one more time, but please do what I'm doing and lightly place both hands around your neck as you sing."

 

Several snorts erupted at this, the boys clearly not taken with the idea. But, she already had her hands gently placed around her neck, waiting for them to follow in this "silly" exercise..

 

"Oh, and please sing like you normally do, regardless of your hands."

 

Well, seeing as how they did know a little of her character, no one particularly felt as though she was trying to make fools out of them - even if the instruction did seem silly. Therefore, once she cued them, they began to sing once more and even humored her when it came to her suggestion.

 

" _Let me call you-"_ Many of the singers had stopped in surprise, already experiencing a bit of the very funny sensation that she suspected they would.

 

"Certainly feels weird to feel such vibrations around your neck, especially since it implies that that's where you're singing from." Elsie continued, reeling the gentlemen's focus back in with ease. For it was true: listening to them alone told her that many of them were singing from around the neck area. More specifically, a fair amount of them were singing from the back of their throat. "Now, singing from the back of your throat is not all that kind to your voice or the notes you're singing, but it's something almost all of us are guilty of from time to time."

 

Bewildered stares emitted, confusion apparent. With so many singers guilty of this habit, how was she possibly going to fix it? Why bring it up in the first place if so many make that mistake, for that matter?

 

"Still, just because so many do it doesn't mean we can't change it. Therefore, I'd like you to put one hand on your nose while the other spins in front of you like so." The woman raised her hands, moving her left to her nose while the right lifted to hover at eye level as she began to revolve it - treating her hand as though it were a wheel that had to spin towards the choir at a swift  _allegro_.

Hesitation sprung forth once more, but an even stronger willingness to try soon followed as about fifty hands rose into the air - starting to rotate the way hers did.

 

" _Let me call you sweetheart,"_

 

Already, there was a fantastic forward motion to almost all of the voices. Sound began to emanate more from their noses than anything else, firmly ringing forth into the room. Such emanation allowed for a beautiful and clear tone that held far less breathiness - breathiness that would only deplete them of the forward sound barbershop required.

 

" _I'm in love with you."_

 

And, with the change in pitch as well as motion, everyone felt the riveting difference.

 

_"Let me hear you whisper that_

_You love me, too."_

 

"That's nice, isn't it?" Her eyes twinkled with satisfaction, "Now, keep that going. And if you ever find yourself wondering just where you're singing or speaking from, put a hand on your face or your neck to find out. You could also be singing from your chest, depending. But, wherever it is your sound is coming from, you can almost always feel it.

 

"And," Elsie's twinkle now contained an inkling of playfulness, "You may also, of course, continue to spin your hands as you do so. It helps to maintain the energy needed, and can guide your voice when it comes to direction."

 

The teens before her nodded, many determined to do as such.

 

_._

 

In comparison to the start of the Bass Choir, Bel Canto was a breeze. Naturally it would be, seeing as how the young ladies of the choir were already used to her command.

 

"Now, who knows what I'm going to ask?" Elsie put the question to them confidently, having absolute faith in their ability to guess her inquiry.

 

"Are you gonna ask us about why this song was written?" Elsie openly smiled at Daisy, giving an encouraging nod at that question.

 

"That is exactly what I'm going to ask." The woman then raised an eyebrow, opening the question for anyone in the crowd to answer.

 

"It's about flying isn't it?" Ivy asked, not really sure of what the exact purpose was but still wanting to speak. "A fighter pilot, I think?"

 

"'High Flight' is indeed about flying, yes." Giggles emanated - though they were soon silenced by a look that demanded respect for all in the room. "And, yes, John Gillespie Magee Jr. was in fact a fighter pilot who composed the original poem during the Second World War."

 

"Didn't he die right after writing it? Collision in the sky?" Ethel bluntly asked, bristling Elsie just a little bit with the borderline disrespectful tone.

 

"He did indeed." The mood dampened a bit at this, but the teacher knew that this wasn't the time for grief to grab ahold of the conversation. "And so we must let his life be a reminder that, not only is nothing guaranteed, it's just as important to remember that we live on - even in death. That our words and our actions have an impact."

 

Sadness turned to something that wasn't quite joy, but something that was more hopeful.

 

"Now, before we get into the words and the notes and all the details, I want you to listen to the opening of the composition. Listen to it, and imagine just what the arrangement is trying to convey - what feelings come to mind as you continue to hear what begins the song." She turned to her colleague at the piano, "Mrs. Butte, if you would be so kind."

 

Emma nodded, Elsie giving her a second to gain her bearings before gesturing her to begin.

 

A swift and lifting tone started to emerge from the piano - the melody beginning to twirl around the room as though the music were preparing to fly off the pages. Steadying notes, notes coming from the lower range of the piano, soon breathed further life into the composition. Together, the freeing chords gliding into the grounding one. They soon took off into the harmonious air before gently beginning to slow down - almost like a wren or finch letting the breeze guide their wings in mid-flight. After a moment, the music notes came to a brief stop as a quiet peace descended upon the room. And, then, with the gentleness of a light breeze, the notes gracefully continued.

 

Curving through the air, the music swept through the room as though they were all soaring through a meadow and fluttering through the heavens. Soon, it were as though the composition were preparing its enraptured audience to be hurtled once more into the harmony of the sky.

 

"And that," She said with almost a windswept smile, "Is how the song begins. That's what sends you off into your clouds and skies, what you carry with you when you learn the composition."

 

They looked positively gone with the wind, now rather eager to properly start to delve into the piece.

 

_._

 

"Emma, before you head out to take lunch," Charles had been in the music library, only just realizing that she'd be heading out in a few moments and that there was no better time to address the problem at hand. "I'd like the three of us to discuss the finale songs, since we haven't had a chance to yet."

 

"Ah, yes, I had been pondering that since the start of the new year," She said knowingly, "And for my selections this time, I had been-"

 

"Oh, Mrs. Butte, I'm sure your thoughts on the matter are excellent. However, we tried a new way of selecting the songs last semester that I had been hoping to replicate." Her eyes widened before narrowing in confusion. A "new way" sounded very unlike the Charles Carson she knew.

 

"And what is this 'new way', Mr. Carson?"

 

"Well, previously,"  _I don't believe I asked for your opinion, Ms. Hughes._ "We both selected one song that we felt was appropriate enough for the finale."

 

"I see." Her tone was sweet and cordial, true. But it wasn't much else. "And may I ask what these songs were?"

 

"'Auld Lang Syne' and 'O Holy Night'." Elsie informed the woman, catching the tone of her colleague and unable to think back to anything other than Matthew's conversation. Even though now was not the appropriate time to mention anything, that potential problem would have to be mentioned soon.

 

Though, it was a tricky situation, to say the least. Mentioning it to Charles might have it seem as though she's attempting to remain at Downton. Refraining from speaking to him at all, on the other hand, sounded like an eventual recipe for disaster.

 

Either way, Emma was already speaking.

 

"Ah, yes, 'Auld Lang Syne' would be quite a fitting selection for you to make." Sarcasm did not color Emma's words, though her thoughts were absorbing such an attitude.

 

"Actually," Charles interrupted, definitely caught in the memories now as he absentmindedly spoke from his spot in their music library. Why else would such a nostalgia direct his tone? "I was the one who suggested 'Auld Lang Syne'. Mrs. Hughes had suggested 'O Holy Night'."

 

"Really?" Emma shouldn't have sounded so surprised, but she was indeed. Overly sentimental was not something she would've ever described Mr. Carson as - and that was the kindest thing that she could classify "Auld Lang Syne" as in her opinion. "O Holy Night", the woman had to begrudgingly admit, seemed far more appropriate when it came to finale pieces.

 

"Yes," Elsie paused, not particularly interested in sharing the details as to why she had chosen it. "But, I think there'd be a problem if we did as such."

 

"And what would that be?"

 

"Well, having three finale songs almost make the finale seem redundant - as though the ending is dragged on." Charles nodded from out of sight, having had similar thoughts himself.

 

"Indeed. Which is why I had an idea on how to maintain that selection style that refrains from creating that sense of redundancy."

 

The choir director left the shelving units to join them as they both stood closer to the front of the room. And it was obvious that he was rather oblivious to Emma's frustration at the situation - judging from the fact that he had the nerve to lightly beam during such a conversation.

 

_Don't I get a say in the matter? I have been in charge of this for the last_ nine  _years, after all!_

 

"Do tell," Elsie piped up before her colleague had a chance to give her own thoughts on the matter. And to make matters worse, Emma couldn't very well interrupt them now that Charles looked so taken with the thought of elaborating.

 

"What if we had  _three_  songs for the choirs to sing altogether? With one song starting off the show whilst the other two serve as the finale pieces." He continued, excitement slipping into what was normally a serious tone. "We could each select one piece, determine the order based on what we agree on and go from there."

 

His optimism that this would be a good idea was infectious - momentarily ridding Emma of her irritations. Elsie even looked a little tickled by such enthusiasm, even though said enthusiasm was tempered by a serious, professional demeanor.

 

"That could work." Emma conceded, not fully on board but a tad more willing to cooperate in the matter. After all, she would still be making a selection for the finale songs - it just wasn't quite what she expected.

 

"I agree - that sounds like an excellent solution."

 

Charles proudly straightened up at this, pleased that both women were on board.

 

"In that case, shall we take a few minutes to think about the matter?"

 

"Yes." "I think that's for the best."

 

_._

 

Emma wracked her brain for something within the music library that would clearly knock the socks off of any crowd. She mentally searched the shelves she'd grown so accustomed to, turning over the options in her mind as more suggestions came to the forefront of her thoughts.

 

And after a few minutes, there was one particular song that came to mind. It wasn't quite her style, in regards to the sickeningly sweet sentiment. And the composition was fairly modern, seeing as how the composer was still alive. But, it was a piece that would inspire the audience and it would earn the right to be part of the concert's finale instead of just starting off the show.

 

"How about Dan Forrest's 'You are the Music'?"

 

_._

 

Elsie turned, not having been expecting such a piece to be suggested - especially not from Emma Butte.

 

"That's certainly a fantastic composition," Thinking about the song, she couldn't help but feel uplifted. "Definitely something to be considered."

 

"I think Eric Whitacre's 'Water Night' is also worthy enough to be considered." The woman looked at her other colleague, more than stunned by such a choice. "You are the Music" was empowering to say the least. "Water Night" was equally so, it's just that the interpretation could be, well….

 

"Which interpretation did you wish to convey to the audience?" The song, though inordinately entrancing, could be considered risqué if seen in certain lights.

 

"The appropriate one," Emma dryly responded before Charles could, "That is, what I believe along the lines of what you were going to say, Mr. Carson."

 

"Of course."

 

"Yes, well, it's important to double-check." Even if she hadn't really been double-checking so much as confirming she'd heard her colleague right. Either way, now that two suggestions had been given, it was at this point that she felt the curious eyes of her colleagues upon her.

 

"Well," Elsie began, still thinking the matter over. But, there was indeed a song coming to mind - even if it was a bit unorthodox. "What if we had all the choirs learn 'Vox Populi'?"

 

The reactions were instantaneous:

 

"Are you sure that's a piece that  _all_ the choirs would do justice to?" "That certainly could work, Mrs. Hughes!"

 

_._

 

Emma withheld a glare at this. She knew that, with a captivated voice like that, it was very unlikely that Ms. Hughes's idea was going to be dismissed. Even if it probably would only end in disaster.

 

Still, "Vox Populi" was a tolerable choice - all things considered. However, she had absolutely no faith in the students as a whole. Yes, the Advanced Mixed Choir would surely be brilliant in this regards. The other choirs… not so much.

 

"In that case, I suspect it'd be the perfect piece to start off the show." She conceded, garnering assent from her colleagues with ease. "Now, if there are no further plans and discussions we need to have, I would like to take my lunch break off campus."

 

"There's nothing left to discuss in my opinion. How about for you, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Nothing for me. Oh and do tell Mrs. Bird we all say hi!"

 

"I'll be sure to do so,"  _Whenever I see her next._

 

For little did her dear colleagues know, she wasn't going to be taking lunch with any faculty member - let alone Mrs. Bird.

 

_._

 

William hadn't meant to say anything upon entering the classroom, honestly. He'd just been looking for Mrs. Hughes to work some more on his solo.

 

But, upon seeing Mr. Carson look so tense, William found himself unable to do nothing. Especially since there didn't really seem to be a reason for the choir director to look as though a storm cloud had flooded the classroom.

 

Truly, the last time he'd seen his teacher look this upset was the day he'd tried to request a solo.

 

And remembering that only further prompted William to speak up.

 

Which eventually brought them both to this moment in time:

 

"Mr. Carson, whatever is the issue, I'm sure you can always turn to the administration." William had offered, not really sure what was going on and still wanting to help, nevertheless. "I find Mrs. Crawley's advice to be appreciated, when she's available to give it."

 

Not that he made a habit of speaking to Cora Crawley of all people. Rather, it was just that - on the few occasions he was required to visit her office on behalf on academics - he had found her to be quite a warm and welcoming person. And if that had been his experience, when he was only a mere student of the academy, surely Mr. Carson would have even better luck.

 

William looked at the choir director, trying to gage his reaction once more. And, indeed, it seemed as though his teacher was genuinely intrigued by the idea.

 

"My apologies for being delayed, William," Mrs. Hughes had returned to 402 before the two could speak any further on the cryptic subject, "Are you ready to rehearse?"

 

"Quite ready," The young singer replied, trying to be confident about agreeing to this even if he didn't feel it. But, before he could leave Mr. Carson, William did have one more piece of advice.

 

"I'm not sure what's wrong, Mr. Carson. But you can always ask others for help."

 

William chose to ignore Mrs. Hughes's unspoken question, a question evident even as she started to leave the room. Instead, he simply looked at his choir director earnestly. It was only after that did he then follow his teacher into 403, all the while hoping that he made a difference.

 

Little did the tenor know, he really did.

 

**_._**

 

"My apologies for my tardiness; I was delayed."

 

Sarah O'Brien looked up from her phone, not particularly pleased with being kept waiting. However, in the case of Emma Butte, she was somewhat more cordial about the matter.

 

Even if it she was still inclined to hold a grudge.

 

"It's alright, Mrs. Butte. I take it Mr. Carson required your attention?" That'd be the only thing that'd be delaying the meeting her teacher had so graciously set up.

 

"Indeed." Though, judging from the woman's face, she wasn't too pleased with the topic matter. "As I'm sure you're well aware, there is a reason behind Ms. Hughes being in charge of the choir this week. And it's not just to 'change things up'." Her face crinkled with disdain at the word choice, her tone not one to be trifled with.

 

"Of course." Sarah was smart, that was for sure.

 

Or, at least, that's what she deemed herself to be.

 

"Yes, well," Mrs. Butte continued, disapproval freely lining her face now that they were away from campus. "As you undoubtedly already know, the choirs will be losing one teacher this semester."

 

This was news to Sarah, but she wasn't stupid enough to say as such.

 

"However, what you're probably unaware of is that the decision has been made in that regard."

 

_Has it now? Doesn't seem very likely._ Still, the alto knew better than to say anything like that.

 

"I take it Ms. Hughes will be leaving us?"

 

"Well, it isn't my place to say," Finally, a return of that sugary facade the school was so well acquainted with. "But, I would imagine that is very likely, unfortunately."

 

_Oh, yes. Quite unfortunate for you, I'm sure._

 

"Of course, while the decision has already been made, it is always nice to have reassurances."

 

So, that's why Mrs. Butte had asked her to meet for an off-campus lunch today. To not-so-politely request that, for the next week, she subtly made a fool out of Elsie Hughes and prove the woman to be incompetent.

 

"I see."

 

Well, having read the lyrics to her solo, Sarah had no real qualms about the matter. Not only did the song scream of an overdramatic tone, there was hardly a challenge within the notes. And the implication that the alto would enjoy such a piece was not one that she cared for.

 

"Indeed."

 

In any case, Thomas was sure to be interested when she told him about it.

 

_._

 

Before she knew it, it was already time for the school day to draw to an end. And, so, it was with somewhat of a heavy heart that Elsie gathered her music sheets and her belongings - her possessions carefully tucked away in a corner of 402. Even though she was looking forward to the  _a cappella_ rehearsal, there was still something to be said for not being able to enjoy a walk with her dear friend afterwards.

 

Speaking of,

 

"Have a lovely rest of your day, Mr. Carson." Elsie offhandedly remarked, sounding far more nonchalant than she felt. She wanted to remark on how it'd be peculiar to not share his company after the rehearsal, or some sort of equivalent.

 

But she wasn't really one for such a remark, not really.

 

_._

 

Charles looked up from the assignments and the correspondences as Elsie began to leave, somehow both bemused and frustrated with the whole situation. He wanted to comment on her very successful rehearsals today or even speak of something inane - some subject that would have her stay just a little longer.

 

In the end, nothing seemed fitting.

 

"And you as well, Mrs. Hughes."

 

_._

 

Elsie stopped right before the doorway, still many meters away from him. Her things were always placed in the desk on the opposite side of the room, the one next to the exit further away from him. As such, there was no purpose to walking over to his desk or heading out to 403 in that direction.

 

Still, it didn't feel right to let the conversation end right there.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie still needed to say something, even if there was no apparent reason other than a gut feeling. She watched as his demeanor, one that still carried a tired thoughtfulness to it, flit through bemusement and curiosity. "Perhaps, when all of this is over, you might be inclined to share that apple crumb recipe Mrs. Patmore mentioned?"

 

A smile peeked through the careful countenance with this idea. And with came a faint glimmer of some emotion, that she wanted to see more often.

 

"I'd be delighted to, Mrs. Hughes."

 

_._

 

Charles watched as Elsie smiled softly to herself, gaining a bit of that sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a few weeks. It truly made for an enchanting sight, and one that he wanted to see more often.

 

"Yes, well, I'd best be off then." He solemnly nodded, wanting to be horribly selfish for wanting to protest this decision - even as he was starting to shoo her out the door. Though, once the door closed behind her, Charles allowed a thoughtful silence to envelope the room. That sort of selfish feeling was uncommon for him - and he didn't know quite what to think of it.

 

Still, after a beat, it became apparent to redirect his thoughts.

 

Else, nothing would get done.

 

Rising from his chair with an ease he didn't really feel, the choir director decided it was time to exit the second fourth floor for the day. However, if he remembered the typical schedule of the administrators of this fine academy, he would not be leaving the building for a little while longer.

 

Quietly making his way down the stairs, Charles contemplated one more conversation as he trekked down to the first floor: his little chat with William during the lunch periods. He obviously had no intention of sharing the truth of the matter - the fact that he was charged with making decision about the choir staff and that it was indeed causing his a great deal of stress - with the teen.

 

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he couldn't take William's advice.

 

However, "Mr. Carson? What brings you here at this hour?"

 

"Mrs. Crawley," Charles couldn't help the slight hesitation that colored his tone at the sight of one Violet Crawley. He hadn't been intending to bother her with such matters - having been looking for Isobel instead.

 

"Is this about the 'Best of Downton'? If it is, I can assure you that you needn't concern yourself with that showcase just yet, regardless of what Isobel may be emailing you." At the sight of his eyebrows contorting in confusion, her gaze turned to one that was far more calculating. "Or, is it a staffing dilemma that has brought you into our domain?"

 

The resulting silence, a quietness that took the air over for only a few seconds, confirmed her suspicions even as Charles tried to change the subject.

 

"I wouldn't want to bother you-"

 

"Nonsense." Violet straightened in a dignified fashion, Charles automatically mirroring her posture out of habit. "To be bothered would imply a burden of some sort. In matters such as the choral excellence, it is  _never_  a burden."

 

Luckily, he was spared a proper response by Isobel's arrival.

 

"Mr. Carson, what brings you here today?" But, the choir director was not allowed to speak - not by a long shot. "Have you decided which of the staff is to perform in the 'Best of Downton'?"

 

He really was at a loss as to what exactly they were talking about - it was quite possibly an email or announcement that had gotten lost during his untimely illness. Either way, it was hardly as though he'd be able to respond - all things considered.

 

"My dear, believe me when I say that this matter would not interest you."

 

"Oh, really? And what makes you so sure?" Violet gave her one of the classic, "Oh, must you be so unnecessarily stubborn about the matter?" - the one with the pursed lips, the hint of frustration lining her eyes, as well as her expression shifting to one of a high-mindedness that bordered on arrogance.

 

"Because he has taken the time to consult only myself on this particular matter. Naturally, Mr. Carson understands the vitality of inquiring advice from only the most qualified of experts."

 

"Does he now?"

 

Both women pinned him down with their stares, waiting for his response.

 

On second thought, perhaps William's advice is not to be followed, in future situations….


	10. Vying Burdens and Trying Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out the three previous chapters just published! "Plotting and Plans", "High Flights and Sweet Suggestions", "Vexing Remarks and Flustering Moments"!
> 
>  
> 
> Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to provide for you the start of something I believe many readers, if not all, have been waiting for. I hope I've done this part justice.
> 
> Also, there is a little shout-out to one of my dearest friends within this chapter and someone whose voice continues to inspire me, in more ways than one :)
> 
> And, finally, a technical note:  _ **Text messages will appear as such.**_ And for this chapter,  _"Phone calls will be represented as such."_

As with many chapters of life, sometimes tension and drama explodes without advance notice. Sometimes, burdens that can be held for far longer are dropped much sooner than anticipated.

And, sometimes, things have to get a little ridiculous before they can be resolved.

For it’s only when the world is clearly falling apart that a solution is necessary.

_._

Waking up to discover that her house’s heater was broken, in the middle of January of all times, was frustrating to say the least. Realizing that the temperature seemed to have dipped into a chilly 3 degrees Centigrade was just as unpleasant, if not more so.

 

That alone told Elsie that this was going to be a very long Thursday. Well, that and the fact that none of the jobs she’d been applying to were interested, as well as the fact she needed three layers of clothing to feel decently warm, _and_ it was already 7:04am -- which meant she was going to be late if she didn’t leave now.

 

Of course, she didn’t really want to go into work today. Not after yesterday, when so many students had broken down in front of her -- some begging her not to leave Downton while others had the audacity to say that this is exactly what they expected from her. Turns out, according to the rumour mill, she would soon be “ditching” the academy in order to pursue a career as head of vocal studies at Carlisle Institute. How such a rumour got started, how it even escalated from a half-truth to an outright lie, escaped her.

 

And the fact that she couldn’t even properly discuss the matter with Charles was driving her up a wall. Never before had her principles created such a frustrating conflict of interest for her -- not to the point where she didn’t even want to try to work.

 

Fortunately, Charles had indeed been there at the time to repeatedly reassure the students she was not ditching them.

 

There was just one slight hiccup in that reassurance:

 

The daft man had confessed that someone would indeed be leaving, but that no official decision had been made in regards to who. Therefore, he really hadn’t managed to reassure anyone in the slightest, and that had only made the rest this week far more dramatic than it needed to be.

 

Why, again, did she decide that staying on at Downton would be a good decision?

 

_._

“Andy, you need to tell her about what happened.”

Thomas had been working on getting his friend to say something all week but nothing was working. By this point, he had half a mind to inform the baritone to just how hell-bent Mrs. Butte was towards getting rid of her competition. That the end result was to cause Mrs. Hughes serious problems this entire week -- whether it was purposefully singing the wrong notes, accidentally tripping her when everyone was rushing out to go to their next class, talking back to her instead of following along, among many other vexing actions.

The end result was a rather worn-out teacher who was not going to call it quits but seriously needed to take a break. And, if Andy just said something about his experience -- if any of the students who had had such an interaction stepped forward -- action would have to be taken. And Mrs. Butte, whose job is clearly in danger if she’s going to such lengths, would be forced to leave.

“What does it matter?” It was like Andy was a broken record on this, having uttered some variation of those four words repeatedly throughout the last week. “It’s not like she could do anything.”

“Trust me when I say she could.” He spoke with gritted teeth, just wanting his friend to step forward. Why did they keep fighting about the matter when the solution was _so_ simple? “If someone’s supposed to be leaving, but they haven’t decided who, speaking up could get the right person to leave.”

“Well, if you think so, then why don’t _you_ just say something!” Andy hissed, losing his patience once again. Luckily for their friendship, the first bell of the day rang -- signaling that it was time for them to part ways for the morning. “And before you ask, no, I’m not interested in studying today! I’d like to be alone, thanks!”

Thomas backed off in irritation, letting Andy walk away even as he began to fume. Didn’t the tenor get how much easier things would be if he just spoke up? Didn’t anyone realize just how ridiculous it was that this woman was allowed to treat several students as such?

_Apparently not!_ The mental growl was accompanied by a severe scowl -- one that always guaranteed him personal space to seethe.

It seemed that, ever since Mr. Carson’s unintentional announcement that someone would be leaving, most of the choirs had assumed Mrs. Butte would be bullying Mrs. Hughes out of her job. That there was no point in speaking up now, because "How could it possibly change anything?".

_But, that doesn’t have to be the case!_

With a surge of ire -- at Mrs. Butte for her cruelty, at the students for staying silent this whole time, at himself for being so bloody helpless -- Thomas lashed out at nearest object: the wall. Pain raced through his arm as he punched the wall, bringing forth a sharp exhalation at the stinging sensation.

“Thomas Barrow! There is hardly a need for such behavior!”

“Sorry, Miss Thorn!” But he was hardly sorry in the slightest. Besides, punching the wall allowed for an outlet -- instead of keeping all of his anger bottled up. And that outlet, in turn, allowed him to see that his friend did have a point. Even through the vexation, Thomas did see that it really could work to go to Mrs. Hughes himself and give herself something to work with.

Because even though Mrs. Butte hadn’t dared to say anything to him, Sarah did try to recruit him on the woman's behalf. And that had to be enough to get something started -- even if it did mean that he’d probably have to get Sarah in trouble in the process.

_Whatever._ In his opinion, the second she “unintentionally” slipped about the staff issue in front of Denker, he lost some respect for her. That, and her reasonings for wanting to get rid of Mrs. Hughes in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class? The second bell is about to ring!” Miss Thorn, the English teacher whose classroom he’d been scowling right in front of, loured at him with disdain.

“Of course, Miss Thorn. My apologies.”

It seemed he had no choice but to go to class. Luckily, there’d be time to work out the details. All he knew was that, in a few hours, he’d be talking to Mrs. Hughes.

And, if he was lucky, Emma Butte would be out of Downton by the end of next week.

But, first, a text needed to be sent:

**_Hope you’ve got people ready to talk. Because someone’s ready to speak up during 4th period. -- TB_ **

Thomas hardly made it through the door of his first class of the day when his phone buzzed -- informing him that he had a response.

**_Understood. -- MC_ **

_._

“Mrs. Hughes, are you alright?” Perhaps it was the layers of clothes or the fact that she couldn’t shake the occasional shiver even with the layers, but Charles was concerned for her.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been the first to ask today.

“Whether or not I am, kindly wait for me to inform you of such facts!” _And don’t even think of boxing me up with pity or some such nonsense!_

He immediately gave her space as more of the Bel Canto filed into the room -- the ladies pretending not to overhear the snap as they entered. Elsie sighed, not having wanted to hurt her friend or create such a scene. Not only it was highly unprofessional it was also, more importantly, incredibly undeserved.

“Mr. Carson,” Charles turned back to her, his eyes unable to fully hide the pain that her sharp tone had caused. She sighed more deeply this time, wishing she hadn’t snapped at him. But, wishes were sentimental and foolish and certainly not that helpful in her opinion. “My apologies, Mr. Carson. That was unwarranted.”

_And not at all how I truly feel about your concern for me._ Elsie couldn’t say that aloud, not in front of the students. But, she could try her best to convey such a thought in her demeanor.

Charles nodded, quite possibly understanding her true sentiments.

However, whether he really did or not was not something she’d ever get the pleasure of knowing.

_._  

“Mrs. Hughes, there is something you should know.” She could tell by his tone that, whatever this was, not going to be something she liked.

“Yes, Thomas?” He looked around the room, not really trusting 402 to stay empty for much longer.

“Can we talk in one of the practice rooms?”

_._

Charles had just returned from a quick vending machine run, because even choir directors could forget their lunch from time to time, but 402 was empty. No soloists, no on-going rehearsals, and no Elsie.

“Mr. Carson? Do you have a minute?”

It seemed he had been mistaken: the room had not been entirely empty.

The choir director turned to the student in question, surprised to see them dropping by when there was no official reason to do as such.

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

Ivy Stuart stepped forth from the doorway, someone else still standing out of sight behind her.

“Well, it’s just,” The first soprano began as she scanned the room. “Well,”

“There’s a problem within the choirs, Mr. Carson.” Ivy nodded at the frank statement. “And it’s not just the rumours.”

Something told the choir director he was not going to like this.

_._

“You mean to tell me she has been intentionally sabotaging the choirs this entire time?”

“Mrs. Hughes, that is exactly what I mean.”

They were standing in one of the few practice rooms that was never touched. Dust coated the piano that was essentially untuned, the one chair in the room looking as though it hadn’t been sat in for months.

But, none of those details mattered now. Not when she was still processing everything Thomas had revealed.

The baritone had stared at her as he had started to explain, watching the woman as a silent outrage overtook of her the further he continued. A steely gaze narrowed her eyes with indignation, a thin line that spoke of ire continued to form the further he confessed the truth. Being requested to help get rid of her, finding out that one of his friends was point-blank told that they shouldn’t bother with choir, he found himself holding back nothing for once.

And being upfront was showing a clear result. No longer was this the wonderful teacher filled with kind smiles and encouraging words -- a tempestuous dragon stood before him, ready to go to war. One who was beyond infuriated with herself for not fully putting together the clues, but one who was also seething with fury that this had happened in the first place. That she had allowed such harm to befall her charges, that she hadn’t stopped this before it got to this ridiculous level.

In short, for the first time in his academic career, Thomas Barrow was terrified of the woman standing before him.

 

And, at the exact same time, he so ready to see her go to war.

_._

In only a matter of seconds, Elsie Hughes stormed out of the practice room and towards 402. Her heels loudly smacked against the floor, her keys shaking with anger as she determinedly approached the door.

Emma Butte better be smart enough not to be in that room. For, if she were, Elsie would not be held responsible for her actions.

Firmly opening the door, the teacher stalked over the doorstep and nearly collided with the very man she wanted to see -- her student quietly trailing after her.

“Mr. Carson,” Accent far more pronounced due to the fury coursing through her, her cutting tone was enough to force him to take a step back.

However, as much as he wanted to hear her out -- for she clearly had something to say -- he couldn’t. Not with such a problem already before him.

“Mrs. Hughes,” Something in his voice had her ire stumble. With that, she sensed that something was wrong. And while she still wanted to slap that woman for all the horrible things that've been going on, there was something else even more pressing.

Realizing they were not alone, Elsie turned her sharp gaze to the other two individuals in the room -- Ivy Stuart and Sarah O’Brien.

“Mrs. Hughes,” Her eyes caught a hint of something stronger than frustration, but he continued before she had a chance to officially think it through. “I’m afraid I have been informed of some very troubling news.”

“What is it, Mr. Carson?"

But, he didn't give her an answer. Not yet, at least.

 

“Ivy, Sarah, Thomas, please leave the room.” It may have sounded like a request, but they all recognized it as the command it truly was. Once the three students left the room, she turned back to him -- waiting.

“Before I explain the news, I would like to preface it by saying I do not believe it.” She bristled, instinct informing her that this was not going to be good. “But, it appears that some students have had several horrible encounters in private with you. Encounters that border on abusive.”

Anger bubbled forth again, her nostrils flaring as her fists curled by her sides.

“Oh, really?” The words pierce the air, disbelief crackling. She knows better than to lose her temper, but it's only because Charles is in the room. Had someone else been there, her voice would be raising. “And what if I were to tell you I had just received a report of those same allegations? However, they were directed towards Mrs. Butte?”

His face blanched, his breath sharp and uneven as he took the words in.

 

It was quite dreadful to realize that _that_ sounded far more fitting.

 

Not to say that Emma would be the type of person to do such a thing, of course -- because Charles couldn’t believe someone he’d work with for about a decade would act in such a fashion. But, if it were between Elsie and Emma, his instinct somehow leaned towards the latter. However, his logic still demanded that they both be considered and that neither claim could be ignored or set aside.

Either way, this situation was going to be messy and unpleasant -- regardless of who truly engaged in such atrocious behavior.

“Mrs. Hughes, I must ask--” Her eyes flashed with anger, even if she recognized that he did have to ask. “I do not want to ask this, you must know this. But, is there any truth to these allegations?”

The woman inhaled deeply, trying to reign back in her indignation before she said something she’d regret. _It’s only a formality, he doesn’t mean it. He is simply doing his job, something you also should be attempting._

Elsie can’t really believe that this was happening in the first place, to be quite honest. And, with such a question, she really wants to release the outrage still coursing through her veins. But, the woman doesn't. Instead, she manages to give a candid response.

“No.”

He nodded, having no doubt of that.

“I see."

 

"Indeed."

 

At this point, he realized he did not have a clue as to what on Earth he should be doing. She, on the other hand, knew exactly what she wanted to be doing. The only problem is that it would undoubtedly get her in severe trouble and wind up with Mrs. Butte being to stay at Downton for as long as the woman wanted to.

 

"Can you finish the rest of the school day? It’s only the Treble Choir.” Her look of disbelief, the _Are you seriously asking me that?_ gaze, brought an inordinately faint smile. “I should have known better than to ask.”

“Quite right.” She muttered, unable to withhold. Still, all things considered, he was quite lucky the Scottish Dragon that Beryl had once warned him about was not about to rip him to shreds.

Here’s hoping that Emma’s allegations were just as false as Elsie’s seemed to be.

 

For, if they weren’t, he had a feeling the Scottish Dragon would be making an appearance.

_._

“What are you doing here?” Sarah had hissed at him the second they were out of 402.

“I’m doing what all you idiots are afraid to do.” He snapped back, not caring if they were fighting in front of an unknown entity like Ivy. By this point, if she was siding with Mrs. Butte, he was apathetic to her reactions to the whole thing.

Anyway, he had a text to send.

**_Change of plans. Hold off from saying anything just yet. -- TB_ **

“Who’s that?” But, years of hiding himself from his family had helped in maneuvering his phone away from her piercing eyes.

“Nobody.” He lied easily. Yes, he and Sarah had been friends for _many_ years. But, ever since starting at Downton, their paths were slowly splitting. And if this pettiness broke off the friendship, then perhaps the friendship wasn’t worth it in the first place.

His phone buzzed again, his eyes glancing down to quickly read the text.

**_Are you sure? -- MC_ **

_Unfortunately._ He texted as such, soon adding that he’d be explaining later if they didn’t all hear about it by the end of the day.

**_._**

“I think it’s best if I went to the courtyard for the rest of the lunch. I’m afraid I won’t be able to work with any soloist right now.”

“Of course. Shall I post a note for you?” She quickly gave consent to this idea, halfway towards the door by the time he suggested the notion.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  

It was a brief interaction, it was practically mechanical, and he absolutely hated that this is how they had to treat one another currently.

“Mrs. Hughes,”

“Yes, Mr. Carson?” Elsie really just wants to leave, that much is clear.

“Good luck.” Whether that’s for the weather she'd be dealing with or for the future, he didn’t elaborate.

She still understood his meaning in any case.

_._

“Sybil,” Matthew caught her during the passing period -- much to his relief.

“Matthew, what’s wrong?”

“You have to tell Daisy she can’t speak up just yet.”

“And why not?” The youngest Crawley sister had been steadily growing impatient with the overall situation, the stupid antics of other students this week taxing her patience. “Are we to sit by and let _another_ week pass by without action?”

“I’m sorry, and I’ll be more than happy to explain -- but first I need you to stop Daisy.” She began to protest this once more, and he just couldn’t deal with such a quarrel right now. “I want Filch gone, too, please make no mistake. But, someone apparently turned the story on Quirrell.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Now, she was righteously angry -- eyes narrowing at the thought of someone lying and twisting the matter.

“But they have. And, if we go to talk to Sirius now, it’ll only look like we’re reacting to that instead of genuinely speaking up.” She scowled at this, somewhat conceding his logic even if she didn’t care for it.

“I’ll try to find her now, but I make no guarantees that I'll be able to catch her in time."

 

“Thank you, Sybil.” He was relieved that she was willing to continue to follow his lead, having been concerned she’d ignore his request altogether. “That really means a lot.”

“Just promise me that the second we can speak up, we _do_ speak up.”

She really was a free-spirit, someone who enthusiastically stood up for all sorts of oppressions and injustices. It truly was a respectable characteristic -- one that he'd normally admire, if this situation didn't require a more delicate attitude.

“I promise.”

_._

When Emma finally returned to the choir rooms, she noted that the posted note on the door was in Charles’s handwriting. Unable to decipher if that’s a good sign, she settled for a sugary tone of inquiry. in order to find out.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Carson?” Sarah had briefly mentioned that they’d be having a student report Mrs. Hughes’s supposed conduct today. It was all an ironic lie, a moment of brilliance that the alto had had conjured up only a few days ago. And it was so closely embroidered with the truth that, in Emma’s opinion, it had to be seen as such.

“Mrs. Butte, it has come to my attention that there have been moments of unethical and inappropriate conduct within the choirs.” She held her expression together, maintaining a concerned look with ease.

“What has Ms. Hughes done?” He gave her a disbelieving look at this, one that was a little nettled at the subtle accusation. And, in retrospect, that may have been too much too soon. “I’m sorry; that was presumptuous of me. What I meant was, what’s happened?”

“There has been a report that Mrs. Hughes was acting in a rather illicit manner towards the students.” _Do not smile, Emma, don’t give it all away just yet._ “But, there was another report that _you_ have been acting in a similar manner.”

Her jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as her thoughts began to race. Who had the nerve to make such accusations against _her_ , after everything she had done for the choirs?

“Therefore, I must ask: is anything of that true?”

“Of course not!” It’s higher pitched than she’d like it to be, but surely he'd understand how shocked she was at such a statement. “Why would I?”

“Why indeed?” It’s murmured quietly enough that the hurt and disappointment in his voice won't be picked up -- unintentionally ignored by the woman in favor of running down the list of all the students she’d been speaking to.

Andy Parker was sufficiently cowed, Joseph Mosley didn’t seem the type to speak out, she hadn’t conversed with Daisy Robinson yet. Claire Morris was inordinately shy and withdrawn, Hannah Roberts wouldn’t dare, Henry Lang seemed all too eager to agree with her assessment, and the others were all in similar states of reticence or agreement.

“Right,” He drew her out of her pondering, “I suppose there will have to be a further discussion before any steps can be taken.”

“Agreed. When is Ms. Hughes coming back? I’d like to get this sorted out sooner rather than--”

“I’m afraid that, seeing as how both you and Mrs. Hughes are involved in the matter,  this is a discussion that will have to be held with the administration.”

“Are you sure that’s quite necessary, Charles?”

“Indeed it is, Mrs. Butte.” _Oh, I see._ So, he was retreating back into the reticent and austere man she’d known long before Elsie Hughes had ever entered the picture.

Well, maybe this was a change that would allow them to continue prospering in a more traditional fashion. Even if she didn’t like the sound of an administrator discussion, at least he wasn’t attempting to question her further on the matter. Surely, that as well as her many years at Downton worked in her favor.

_._

Beryl Patmore wasn’t one to wander aimlessly through the halls of the school. But, for the last lunch period, she had the strangest urge to go for a purposeless walk. To take any path offered to her now, to focus on only the steps before her and nothing else.

Though, at one point in her wandering, she found herself glancing out one of the windows to the outside world. Her attention was pulled by the frost that coated the edges of the window, the bleak sky that solemnly greeted her.

“Weather nobody should be out in,” Beryl muttered to herself, watching as even that breath painted a murky spot of air on the glass -- a reaction to the cold. Still, for a second, even with the glass as translucent as it currently was, she thought she saw a familiar figure pacing out in the courtyard.

“Oh, dear.”

However, Beryl was already heading towards the stairs that would take her straight to the courtyard. Concern guided her steps, a disconcerting sensation giving her cause to pick up pace.

If it that was who she thought it was, something was terribly wrong.

And, having known that silhouette for more than thirty years, it was really unlikely that it was anyone else.

_._

Learning mathematics was never one of William’s interest. In fact, due to his dislike he’d usually choose a seat near the window. Why? Because, whenever he could get away with it, the teen would be able to glance out into the skies and remember that there was life after algebra and trigonometry.

And, right now, he really needed to remember that fact. Because today’s lesson was confusing and frustrating, and he needed to step away for a second -- even if he couldn’t actually leave his seat just yet.

So when Ms. Johnson’s back was turned, his eyes were already peering out -- glimpsing anything he could. The skies, the age-old brick adorning the building, the--

“William, do _you_ know the answer?”

Caught.

_Oops._

“Ms. Johnson, I’m not actually sure I understand the question.” Some form of honesty was the best in cases like this. And it was true, after all, that he didn’t understand a single thing on the board. But, what was also true was that there something just a bit more interesting that he might have just glimpsed at outside.

William hadn’t really had a chance to look, but it seemed to be that there were a pair of people out in the freezing courtyard. And, for a second, he thought he recognized Mrs. Patmore’s distinctive hair through the window. But, why the band director would be out when it was so frigid escaped him.

However, before he could figure it out, Ms. Johnson forced his gaze back towards the board. And, by the time his eyes were able to escape his personal nightmare that was written out so eloquently on the whiteboard -- unending mathematical equations that made absolutely no sense -- the two people were gone.

There was no longer anything to focus on, nothing to pay attention to.

It seemed that even the world wanted to torture him with trigonometry today.

_._

“There, there,” She had Elsie secured in her arms, very intent on giving a woman another comforting hug the second they were away from the prying eyes of students and teachers alike. The courtyard made for a beautiful place to see the world, but it was just as easy for the world to see whoever was in the courtyard.

And, judging from the fact that Elsie hasn’t been fighting either of her hugs yet, this was not something for just anyone to see. The woman also hadn’t reciprocated anything for that matter. Rather, she was just standing there -- lost in whatever dark rabbit hole her thoughts were taking her.

“I can’t believe I was blind to it, Beryl, to _that woman’s_ antics.”

Thomas may not have given her every detail, he couldn't possibly have, but now all the pieces of the semester’s puzzle were clicking into place. The almost scared looked in some of faces when a reprimand was on the way, the way that there was a respect that almost seemed forced and strained. How certain students seemed to be slipping in posture and attitude during the last few weeks for no apparent reason, along with all of the stupid stumbles and mistakes and attitudes that had been occurring during _only_ this week.

“You weren’t blind to it,” The band director reminded her, in an attempt to comfort her. “You just didn’t know everything.”

Somehow, the attempt at comfort fell flat. Because it’s true: she wasn’t blind to it. She saw some of the signs, students had begun to give her hints, and her instinct had said something was wrong.

“But, did I do anything to stop it?” The guilt began to finally make itself known, taking her normal confidence and distorting it into something far less solid.

And, this was not something that could fixed with a few reassuring platitudes or a hug.

_._

Charles doesn’t know how they do it, but the three of them managed to trudge through one more rehearsal. They managed to work with the Treble Choir without any real problems -- other than a few stray comments here and there.

Elsie almost slipped when she discovered all her music for the period was somehow missing. But, after asking Claire Morris if she could borrow the second soprano's binder instead, that little crisis was averted.

Emma also seemed to struggle for a moment, having questioned her fellow teacher’s advice with a little more attitude than before. She still held a sugary quality, but there was a change that even the students noticed.

Charles personally struggled to spend the class period observing. He found himself sat in the chair he’d been occupying all of this last week, staring at both women before him and contemplating the whole mess. Gut instinct was hinting at someone, but his spinning thoughts couldn’t conclude anything. And, years of experience with Emma made it very, _very_ difficult to assume anything. However, to even try to imagine Elsie acting in such a manner as the one Ivy describe seemed to go against everything he’d witnessed in the last several months.

The back-and-forth thoughts mercilessly twirled around the realization that he couldn’t even reach out to either of them for support -- not if they were both wrapped up in the allegations. And this bothered him so much that he found himself departing from the second fourth floor the moment he could.

It appeared to be that the only thing he had been able to conclude was that this would require a different perspective. A viewpoint that had an inkling of the situation, but one that wasn’t going to get trapped in the details.

He could only hope that Mrs. Crawley was available to converse with. Because he didn’t think he could make a decision just yet without her advice.

_._

“Mrs. Hughes?”

Typically, most of the Treble Choir scrambled out of the classroom as fast as they could.

Not in today’s case, apparently.

“Charlotte?” Charlotte Williams was one of the ladies Elsie could easily advancing to the Concert Choir instead of going into Bel Canto -- unlike the typical path that was encouraged for someone starting out in the choirs. And now the dark-skinned student was approaching her only a minute after the final bell of the day had rung, concern clearly reflecting in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m worried about someone, someone I like to consider a friend even if we don’t really talk.” Elsie really hoped this wasn’t someone in the choirs. “And I was wondering if I could ask for a little advice?”

“Go on,” She consented, now wracking her brain for who Charlotte could possibly be concerned about.

“She’s someone I don’t really get to talk to, but I think is having a hard time these days.” That didn’t really help to narrow down the search for the teacher, but it was something. “And, I want to say something to help her out, but I don’t know if I really can.”

Well, if today had taught Elsie anything, it was that _that_ mentality did not help. Holding back from helping others out of fear could result in unintentionally worsening the situation. Not always, but it was certainly the case today.

“You can always offer to help, even if you don’t know her as well as you’d like.” The words were firm, the recollections of the day ingrained in the sound. “The important thing is to respect her wishes, but also to show that whenever she’s ready to talk you’re going to be there.”

“Okay,” Charlotte took in the words thoughtfully, “So, perhaps something along the lines of, ‘I know I’m only a student, but if you did need someone to talk to I am more than willing to listen’?”

Elsie gave a start, having not been expecting that. It was an audacious statement for someone who was only in her first year, going beyond the appropriate boundaries of a traditional student-teacher relationship.

But, with a day like the one she'd had, it was appreciated.

“That could work. Of course, you have to keep in mind that we sometimes can’t share just what’s wrong in our lives. And that might be the case of your friend.” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow, still perfectly content to keep this question in a “hypothetical” realm.

“Right. Still, it would probably make a difference to try, wouldn’t it?” A faint smile appeared at that, the older woman recognizing the sentiment her student was now rephrasing. After all, she had just told Charlotte as such only a minute or two ago.

“I do believe so, yes.” The first soprano nodded again at this, appearing to contemplate the matter.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve got to start heading home, Mrs. Hughes.” Charlotte smiled, “Thank you for the help -- I really think that my friend will get the message.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” It was a dry remark, one that brought forth a hint of mirth in her student’s demeanor as the younger lady began to leave the classroom.

And, really, it did help.

Even if the guilt was still creeping in, even if her thoughts still revolved around darker matters, that little conversation had made a difference.

_._

“You mean, there are allegations against them both?”

Upon his dropping by to see if she had a minute, Mrs. Crawley made it clear that -- even if she hadn’t indeed had a minute -- she was far too invested in the matter.

“Yes.” Charles confessed plainly, still feeling off-kilter by it all. It was not only the situation at hand, it was the current conversation itself. He always held a respect for Violet Crawley, feeling as though she was one of the few individuals within the institution that genuinely understood and agreed with his academic motivations.

However, it was not until this week that he was beginning to feel as though he could genuinely speak to her on equal terms.

  
“Well, then, surely the solution is simple?”

His puzzled expression begged to differ.

_._

Elsie managed to make it back to her place when she's realized that the heater's still broken. And, even though there's no real point in delaying fixing that issue, she still finds herself procrastinating in the matter for one simple reason:

 

"Beryl?" 

 

_"I wanted to make sure you made it home alright."_

 

"Well, getting home isn't the issue." Elsie offhandedly remarked, indifferently noticing that condensation was beginning to appear the more she spoke. That definitely wasn't a good sign, but it merely felt like another addition to what was a long day.

 

_"And just what is that supposed to mean?"_

 

It was at this point that Elsie realized Beryl was still on the phone. She froze, not literally thankfully, searching for an answer to give her friend. 

 

_"Elsie, do I need to come over there?"_

 

"That's not a good idea," The words are awkwardly spoken, and it's too late to try to remedy the situation.

 

_"And just why is that not a good idea?"_

 

She mumbled something, feeling uncharacteristically childish about the matter. It's not as though someone purposefully damaged the--

 

_There is no point in thinking like that, even if it's true. You don't know what's happened or if it just broke on its own._

 

_"I'm afraid you're going to have to speak up."_ With a look of frustration already etching itself on her face, Elsie glanced at the floor -- as though her friend were in the room.

 

"My heater's broken." It's spoken in a stifled tone, as though she's somewhat embarrassed by something out of her control. A tinny sigh of relief came from the phone's receiver, and Elsie thought for a second she was off the hook. That, whatever was concerning her friend was no longer an issue.

 

_"Alright, that's it."_ The decisive tone interrupts her own relief.  _"You're coming to my place."_

 

"Beryl, I hardly think that's necessary." Moreover, maybe it would help to literally cool off for a bit. "Besides, I was in the process of calling the repair company--"

 

_"Would you prefer my place or Mr. Carson's?"_ That shut her up immediately,  _"Because it wouldn't be getting repaired until tomorrow, and I cannot allow you to stay there in such conditions."_

 

"I see."

 

_"I'll be there in ten minutes."_

 

_._

 

Even though he had been given a suitable solution to start taking care of everything with the choirs, that didn't mean he felt particularly accomplished or happy. Rather, he felt like a fool who'd been blind to a lot. 

 

But, at least, it was already nine in the evening -- a perfectly time to attempt to go to sleep.

 

Except, there seemed to be one more task today that required his attention.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?" The woman had just rung him up only thirty seconds ago. Why escaped him. However, with everything he'd heard today, he was prepared for almost anything.

 

_"I just wanted you to know that Elsie will not be coming into work tomorrow."_

 

"Is everything alright?" But, her hesitation informed him that -- whatever the woman decided to say -- things were not okay.

 

_"It will be."_  He could only suppose that to be true. And, it actually worked in his favor that Elsie wasn't to be there tomorrow: even though this was still her trial-week, her absence -- as well as Emma's, which he guaranteed less than three hours ago -- would allow him to personally speak to all students tomorrow. 

 

After a few more minutes of chatting, it became apparent that neither of them were really up to small-talk this evening. That realization only led to them quickly wrapping up the conversation and wishing each other not only a good evening, but also good luck.

 

And, now, he had no excuse to refrain from attempting sleep.

 

Well, except for the part where he remembered that he’s probably going to go through the dream of the stage being flooded. This past week, it’d been occurring every night. It was a new version of the same nightmare each time, and it always succeeded in plaguing his sleep. Discovering the whole auditorium was destroyed, hearing a mocking voice inform him that he was continuing to fail, watching his elegant sanctuary continue become entrenched in a sickening oil, it never ended.

 

And, after lying down only to realize that he was probably to experience another nightmare tonight, Charles found himself wanting to one last thing before giving into whatever sleep had to offer him tonight.

_._

Elsie had been in the process of being forced in the direction of the guest bedroom -- having been steered away from trying to steal a spot on the couch -- when her phone rang. The name _Charles Carson_ soon appeared, followed by a silly little picture Beryl had taken of the two of them after the show.

 

It was a photo of them standing together at the end of the winter concert, having been caught up in the rush of pulling off a brilliant show. Their smiles were undoubtedly carefree, their proximity to one another not quite professional or appropriate, and their overall demeanors glowed with delight -- illustrating how enjoyable the evening had been.

Normally, she’d be softly smiling at such a sight. But now, at the end of such an exhausting day, she didn’t know whether to be concerned or not. Luckily, Beryl was giving her some privacy by returning back to the kitchen to "do some more last minute cleaning".

“Mr. Carson?”

_“Mrs. Hughes,”_ Charles’s voice was far heavier than she’d ever heard it, as though it were carrying the weight of the whole world. She didn’t like it one bit, wanting to take that burden off his shoulders straight away.

“Is everything alright?” _Only, it’s just that we can’t really afford to converse at such a time if it’s not an emergency._

Awkward silence grew, informing her that her hopeless liar was indeed struggling with speaking his mind currently. It only reminded her that this whole situation wasn’t easy for anyone, and that nothing in this regard was going to get any easier anytime soon.

_“No, I’m afraid it’s not.”_ Elsie had been biting her lip long before Charles had finally answered, her eyes closing at the depleted sound. And, even though she was far too tired -- and it was far too inappropriate --  to try to go over to his place at this hour in some attempt to help in some fashion... that didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

They stood in the quiet of the moment, each listening to the sound of the other. She could faintly hear his deep breaths as he refrained from sighing, he could make out the sound of her biting her lip for the umpteenth time that day.

_“Mrs. Hughes, I want you to know something.”_

She waited a moment, giving him the opportunity to drink in the silence if that’s what he needed to do in order to eventually speak. But, when a moment turned into a minute, it felt like tangible encouragement was the drink of choice.

“Go on,” It was a quiet murmur, but one that she hoped still sounded motivating.

_“I just want you to know that, even though I may have to be a bit ‘crabby’ in the coming days,”_ ‘Crabby’ would be a quaint understatement, of that she was sure. But if they were both sane by the end of this ordeal, it'd be a miracle. _“I am on your side. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but it’s true.”_

The words only reinforced the relief that had been threatening to flood her ever since Beryl first hugged her in the courtyard today. Those words spoke of a trust she’d been craving ever since that moment he had to question her in 402, less than twelve hours ago. And even if she had already recognized that he trusted her, that he wasn’t about to side with Mrs. Butte after hearing from Ivy and Sarah, hearing the words outright made it all a little easier.

“Thank you for that.” But, before he could bid her a good night or anything of the kind, she gently continued. “I hope you realize the same goes for you.”

There’s a pause as he acknowledged the truth flowing through her words. And, even though they don’t say another word just yet, she can already feel the weight finally lifting from his shoulders. She can feel his beam through the phone, can hear his smile as they bid one another a good night and pleasant dreams. And as she hung up the phone, she can even imagine being able to whisper those same words in his presence, not over a phone call. She can picture their loving murmurs echo not through cell phones, but through kisses and tender gazes.

 

It’s those imaginings that guided her towards the guest bedroom. And it's those pictures of possibility that beckoned her towards the first proper rest she’s had in weeks.

And, little does Elsie Hughes know, she was not the only one picturing such a life. Only a few miles away, slowly beginning to drift off into slumber, one Charles Carson was envisioning a life along similar lines. There were differences within his thoughts, as with all shared dreams.

Still, what would be the point of having such sweet imaginations if they didn’t carry some variations? For it was variation that allowed life to expand into its fullest potential.

 

And, for that matter, what would be the point of living if all the possibilities weren’t explored?


	11. Confessions and Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably guess from the title, it's time for some heavy topics. There is going to be some humour interspersed within this chapter, but it will be mostly time to get serious.

"Elsie?" Beryl would have to head into work soon, but she wanted to check in on her guest before heading out. "Elsie, love, you awake?"

 

The woman in question was currently still passed out, quite possibly getting the most sleep she'd gotten in weeks. Beryl couldn't resist a pleased grin at this - relieved that she wouldn't have to fight with her friend for the sixth time in twenty-four hours about taking the day off.

 

Quietly, the woman closed the door to the guest bedroom before making her way over to the kitchen. Upon arriving in her favorite room of the house, Beryl grabbed a piece of paper and pen before beginning to scribble a note saying that everything in the fridge was up for grabs. She then continued to make sure she was really ready for a day of teaching high schoolers before it was time to depart from the house.

 

Here's hoping Elsie slept the morning away and realized there was no need to even bother going to school today. And, that this silliness with the choirs was finally put to rest.

 

But, Beryl wasn't one to advocate pushing one's luck. So, she'd settle for just the former for the time being.

 

Still, the latter did have to occur at one point or another.

 

_._

 

Only a few miles away from Beryl's humble abode, three sisters were preparing for whatever the day would bring.

 

Mary, frankly, was hoping Mrs. Hughes would be available to work on her solo - her diction was not as perfect as she'd like it to be. And while Mrs. Butte was more proficient in German, Mrs. Hughes was far more helpful in general. The soprano also was hoping that Mrs. Butte had miraculously disappeared from Downton - her neutral opinion of the woman having sunken into immense dislike when the woman had the gall to try to subtly and repeatedly put down Anna. All attempts were unsuccessful, of course, but it was the principle of the matter that was the point.

 

Edith was wracking her brain on what to do with the choirs. Half of her wanted to turn in an anonymous letter to the school newspaper - and, yes, this was the same newspaper she worked for - that spelled out Mrs. Butte's unforgivable behavior. However, the other half of her recognized how devastating it would be for Mr. Carson and the choirs if that was what happened. Therefore, that other half was of the belief that she should somehow sneak a recording device into a rehearsal, provoke Mrs. Butte, and catch it all on tape. But then she'd have to deal with the ethics of having a recording device in the first place.

 

Sybil was so very close to just speaking up about everything not to Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson, but to Cousin Isobel. For, if anyone was going to be blunt and get to the point within that situation, it would be her. However, Cousin Isobel wasn't necessarily the best person to go for discretion. And even though Sybil hardly gave a flying fig about discretion in personal matters, she knew this didn't impact only her. This would hit all of the choirs if it got out.

 

Little did the sisters know, they'd each get the opportunity to help that issue in just a few hours.

 

_._

 

Having arrived to the choir rooms far earlier than he needed to, Charles blankly looked about the room. Had someone told him this is how the spring semester would be starting, he would have been appalled beyond belief and quite possibly would have declared them insane.

 

However, the truth of the matter was this  _was_ how the semester was unfolding. It really did appear that there had been some form of mistreatment - if not actual abuse - occurring within the choirs.

 

And, if that was indeed the case, then let it be known that Charles Carson would not be standing for it. There would be no tolerance for that sort of behavior, no second chances for anyone who repeatedly acted as such.

 

And that would be the case, regardless of who was the culprit.

 

_._

 

It was with more than just a small amount of dread that Andy trekked up the stairs to the second fourth floor. It wasn't just that Mrs. Butte occasionally gave him these stupid knowing looks throughout the last several weeks - as though she knew what was best for him. It also wasn't the fact that he was a few minutes late already, as well as the fact that he still didn't know how everything went with Thomas ever since their conversation yesterday. Instead, it was-

 

_Mr. Carson?_

 

Having gotten used to seeing Mrs. Hughes standing in the conductor's spot for the last week, the tenor was a little surprised by this change. But, the choir director was indeed standing at the front of class - looking as though he was quite ready to take charge of the choirs once more.

 

Not only that, he looked so invested in his current lecture that he was oblivious to Andy's late arrival - something alone that spoke of just how important the matter was. Anyone who was tardy to class was automatically lectured. Yet, it looked like the tenor lucked out today with that. And, even more interesting was the fact that Mr. Carson was already in the process of lecturing them - instead of waiting at least a few minutes.

 

The tenor slowly opened the door a little further, being careful to not draw attention to himself as he listened to the ongoing speech.

 

"I'm afraid to announce that there have been reports of serious conduct within the music department."

 

_No way._

 

Andy couldn't believe that Thomas had somehow managed to do it. He'd actually spoken up to Mrs. Hughes and it looked as though Mrs. Butte was now gone.

 

"If one of you has had any such experience, will he please come to me? Your words will be heard in the strictest confidence."

 

The tenor waited by the doorway as the tension of the room shifted. It was deathly quiet, a variety of reactions scattering about. Glances of apprehension, eyes widening in relief, nudges and "subtle" elbowing - the young gentlemen remained quiet even as their actions continued to converse.

 

"Thank you." The choir director stated, appreciative of the fact that they were taking this seriously enough to remain quiet and think the matter over. He gave them half a minute to mull it over, hoping they realized how grave the situation was.

 

Only once Mr. Carson had looked back down and began rifling through his music binder did Andy sneak over to his seat towards the back. He was still in a state of shock as they began to warm-up before the choir started to refine the  _a cappella_ pieces at hand. Even while singing, he was rather unable to believe that this was actually happening.

 

The question now was if he should in fact speak up or just let it go.

 

_._

 

She had been woken up by the kind sensation of gentle sunlight peeking into the room. A soothing feeling, one that came from a proper night's rest and the ability to wake up naturally, stirred Elsie back to the land of conscious thought. Though, like almost anyone else waking up, it was not an instantaneous process.

 

Adjusting her pillow and snuggling further into the soft blankets, Elsie began to register the fact that her bed was not normally this comfortable. That her blankets were not normally this relaxing. Grogginess quickly departed, as her eyes swiftly opened to reveal that -

 

"Oh," Everything was coming back to her. And, it was with a feeling of faint disappointment that she settled back into the covers - taking in the situation for what it truly was.

 

See, for a moment, Elsie had almost been convinced that she was in an entirely different bed altogether. That if she rolled over to her side and looked, the woman would soon discover that she had the pleasure of sharing the bed with a certain someone.

 

However, why would that be reality?

 

_Or, at least,_ the risqué thought rebelliously crept into mind, determined to take full advantage of the situation,  _why would that be the reality just yet?_

 

She quickly batted away such thoughts, knowing that they were highly inappropriate - especially with everything going on currently. Yet, instead of leaving as they should've, the imaginations only multiplied.

 

Of course, those deviations were immediately stopped by recalling just why she wasn't already at the school. At that shift in mentality, the thoughts were quickly replaced by a concerning sentiment - a worry about the students and what had been occurring these last few weeks.

 

Elsie did have one consolation, thankfully: she trusted Charles Carson to make the right decision in how to handle the matter and what to do, even in her absence.

 

Make that two consolations, actually; the second being that, regardless of what he had to decide, she was going to be there by his side - in whatever capacity possible.

 

_._

 

"Do you think you'll say anything?" Ivy's ears picked up the curious tone of Phyllis Baxter, who seemed to be speaking to Daisy.

 

"Well, it's stupid to speak up, isn't it? Not like it's going to make much of a difference, anyway." Daisy countered the question pessimistically, withdrawing into herself. Ivy followed them a bit, maintaining a few steps behind them so as to not draw attention.

 

"What do you mean?" The younger of the two ladies shot her walking companion a look, as though she didn't see what was obvious.

 

"I heard that someone said Mrs. Hughes said stuff, too. And while that's not true, how much do you want to bet Mrs. Butte is just gonna more people to say stuff too?" Daisy looked away, not particularly interested in the subject. "It's stupid to speak up, that's all. The wrong people will get fired if I do."

 

The two singers soon deviated in their path, leaving Ivy to stand in the stairwell and pretend she hadn't been eavesdropping.

 

Now, she did have class in less than three minutes.

 

Still, that didn't mean she'd be able to focus.

 

Overhearing that conversation only meant that the singer was stuck thinking about why she even lied in the first place: to protect herself so Sarah wouldn't tell everyone what Ivy did this last summer. She'd been foolish to trust the alto in the first place, thinking that there would be no favors or anything between them because of the incident.

 

Well, she was wrong about that.

 

And, now, it seemed almost stupid just what she'd been roped into.

 

_._

 

Going back to lie down in bed had been a clear mistake; it was far too comfortable for Elsie to stay focused on the matters at hand if she were in bed.

 

Luckily, her phone buzzed only a few minutes after she laid down - providing some form of distraction.

 

_**I hope you're making sure to eat something.** _

 

Nevermind about wanting a distraction of any kind; taking a nap would be  _far_ more suitable if it allowed her to feign ignorance in this regard. Furthermore, a nap would also be far preferable to dwelling over matters she couldn't currently change.

 

_._

 

Anna had noticed the absence of Mrs. Butte and Mrs. Hughes the second she'd walked into 402 and, well, let's just say that she hadn't decided if that were a good or bad thing just yet.

 

"Have you seen Mrs. Butte today?" She asked John in passing, having arrived early enough to not need to go to her assigned seat just yet.

 

"No," He confessed, having noticed her absence as well. "Did you see Mrs. Hughes at all?"

 

"Nope," Anna remarked, not liking the sound of that.

 

Well, whatever was going on, it looked like Mr. Carson was more than ready to tell them.

 

_._

 

"So, do you think you'll speak up?"

 

It's what he wants to ask, that's for sure. But, Andy's just now started to want to study again for English and Thomas doesn't want to push his luck.

 

"Do you think I should speak up about it? Tell Mr. Carson about what happened?"

 

The baritone looked at his friend for a long while after being asked, not wanting to force him to go down any route but also wanting him to realize how important it was to speak up.

 

However, speaking up was not Thomas's decision. It would have to be Andy's.

 

"I think that you should do what you feel is best." He neutrally responded, continuing, "And if you're not sure what feels best, do whatever feels right."

 

It was almost surreal, giving such advice to his friend. Heaven knows Thomas hadn't really followed such a mentality in the past - not being one to go out of his way to always do the right thing.

 

But in a case like this, that really was what Thomas believed to be the piece of advice he could give.

 

_._

 

His heart dropped at the sound of those familiar footsteps making their way through the hallway of the second fourth floor. Having heard those steps traverse the steps of Downton ever since she was a little girl, he long since had memorized their elegant sound.

 

"Mr. Carson, I was wondering if I could have a word," Mary Crawley stood in the doorway of 402 - looking rather grim for once.

 

Without a shred of doubt, he knew she wasn't here to practice her solo. Not that she could, even if she wanted to - he had announced to all soloists that there'd be no lunch time rehearsal today, so that any student wishing to come forward could.

 

"Of course," If it weren't Mary, he'd make time to hear any student out.

 

"It's a matter involving Mrs. Butte, I'm afraid."

 

And so it began.

 

_._

 

It was during lunch when she'd received the most curious request to date. And, from Sybil of all people.

 

"Edith, would you be willing to talk to Daisy about everything?" Sybil asked this only once there was a very little chance of their being overheard - giving her no reason to question just what "everything" was. "Someone must've said something discouraging to her since yesterday because now she says it's stupid to speak up. And she won't listen to me or Phyllis, regardless of what we say."

 

"What makes you think I'd make a difference?" She was honestly confused, having been the least involved with the matter. After all, Matthew had hardly spoken to her about it, Sybil said there wasn't a need for her to help just yet, and nobody else seemed to care about the matter.

 

"Daisy respects you, Edith, we all do." It was the truth: the teen had been able to take charge of the school's newspaper, on top of all her other interests and responsibilities. Simply put, that was no easy feat. "And if she hears it from someone she looks up to, she might listen."

 

"Daisy looks up to you, Sybil," Edith protested, not sure where this praise was coming from. Sybil was the one who spent her free time volunteering in any cause that sparked her interest. Sybil was also the free-spirit of the family, the vivacious and outspoken soul that so many people admired - her family included. And Phyllis, while not a member of the Crawley family, was someone who people naturally felt comfortable around. She coaxed such an openness from the world that Edith honestly felt redundant trying to help.

 

"I think it'll help to hear this from someone else." The youngest Crawley sister briefly explained. Really, Daisy did like them both. But, Sybil recognized that she had been placed on somewhat of a pedestal in all of at Downton. That her word was listened to but it wasn't understood the same way that Edith's could be. And that sometimes, with her strong personality, it could be difficult to want to listen to. And, for Phyllis, it could unintentionally come off as "mother-henning" to the younger singer - making it just as hard for her to want to listen.

 

The middle Crawley sister thought the request over for a minute - somewhat understanding Sybil's point even if she still didn't fully understand why she of all people had been designated for the task. Still, it wasn't as though she didn't like Daisy - far from it. The younger soprano was sweet to talk to, even if Edith didn't make a habit of it.

 

"Alright, I'll do it."

 

"Thank you so much, Edith!" Sybil quickly hugged her, bringing a smile to her sister's face. "You're the best sister ever!"

 

"Don't let Mary catch you saying that," She warned, still somewhat pleasantly taken with the praise.

 

"Alright. You're the best older sister that's not the oldest of the family I could ever have!" Edith snorted at this purposefully awkward phrasing, somewhat tickled by the words. With such enthusiastic effusion, how could she say no?

 

Especially since this was her chance to finally help the cause.

 

_._

 

"In short, I have witnessed Mrs. Butte give rather disparaging remarks to some of the other singers, remarks that I can no longer keep to myself." Mary firmly stated, thinking of Anna as well as a few other singers who she suspected received similar treatment. "I am ashamed to admit it's taken me this long to come forward, but-" She trailed off, no longer sure of what to do or say for that matter.

 

"But, you could not possibly have foreseen this. There is no need for shame or any sort of apology, Mary." And he sincerely meant it.

 

"Alright," She conceded, before primly arching an eyebrow and sending him a piercing stare. "But I hope you realize that the same holds true for you and Mrs. Hughes. This is not something that you are to be blamed for."

 

He resisted the urge to scoff, for it wouldn't have really been directed at her - he could never do that. Rather, it would have been a scoff of disbelief, one that illuminated just how much of a fool he felt in light of everything.

 

Charles could only hope Elsie at least was in a better place.

 

Because he certainly wasn't.

 

_._

 

"Elsie?" Beryl had been able to step out of the band room and quickly make it back to her house for lunch - in an effort to make sure her friend had indeed been taking care of herself in her absence.

 

"Beryl?" It was a good sign that she found her friend in the kitchen, even better when the band director saw a plateful of homemade delicacies in front of the woman. "What brings you here?"

 

"I wanted to check in on you," She freely admitted, having honestly been a little concerned. Elsie shook away the concern, not being in the mood for such worry.

 

"I'm perfectly alright. But, I was wondering,"

 

"If you're about to ask me about Mr. Carson, Mrs. Butte, the choirs, or all of the above you can march yourself straight back into bed."

 

The choir teacher scowled at this, not having been pleased in the slightest about being cut off.

 

"I'll have you know that the choirs are in fact my responsibility, Beryl. That I am responsible for their well-being and their education."

 

"And when you've worked yourself to death worrying over something that we can do nothing about?" Elsie's eyes narrowed, her mouth thinned further, and her demeanor shifted to one more tense as she heard the same thoughts that had been bouncing around her brain for quite a few hours now.

 

"I am certain there's something we can do about the matter,"  _Even if I don't know what just yet._

 

"You'd like something to do?" Beryl did not step out of the academy today only to discover that Elsie was stressing herself - something that was the very opposite of what she wanted. "Tell you what, go for a walk. Leave your phone behind. I'll give the spare key, and then you can go wherever you want. Or, if you haven't already, call up the repair company and start fixing your heater.

 

"Because if you think it'll help Mr. Carson if you magically came back for the rest of the afternoon, I'd like you to remember that both you  _and_ Mrs. Butte are currently not on the premises. So, if you were to show up, you'd only be helping her story if she somehow thinks to say that you and Mr. Carson were somehow conspiring against her."

 

The argument made a frustratingly good amount of sense, silencing Elsie in the process.

 

"Now, I'm not going to 'forbid' you from stepping foot there today, God knows that wouldn't work. But, I'm going to ask you to keep all of what I just said in mind."

 

The woman took in her friend's words silently, reflecting on the validity of the statement. She absolutely wanted to disagree and go back to Downton, to do something to help her charges or at least reassure them that there has indeed been a horrible mistreatment.

 

However, she did recognize the argument present. And as much as it irritated her to admit as such in this regard, Beryl did have a point.

 

"Alright. You win."

 

"Oh, I wish I'd gotten that on tape." The band director teasingly remarked, satisfied with the capitulation. "How much did it hurt to say that?"

 

" _Don't_ push your luck, Mrs. Patmore."

 

"Back to 'Mrs. Patmore', are we?"

 

_._

 

It was with trepidation in her steps that Ivy climbed up to the second fourth floor. Daisy's conversation with Phyllis from earlier had haunted her whenever she stopped thinking, and created a burden she never expected.

 

It hadn't really hit her just what would happen to Mrs. Hughes after lying. Like, she knew it wasn't going to go well in the woman's favor, but getting fired and having Mrs. Butte stay on was not something that Ivy realized could happen.

 

And, really, now that she thought about it, it made sense.

 

It also made her feel unusually horrible about lying for Sarah.

 

"Ivy?" She'd reached the door to 403 long before she realized it, Mr. Carson standing in the doorway. The choir director looked a little paler than normal, a little worried now that she approached him, and the guilt doubled.

 

"I just wanted to say something, Mr. Carson." He beckoned her into the classroom and she followed him back inside, uncharacteristically nervous about the whole thing. This really wasn't her type of thing to get involved with - and it wasn't all that exciting for that matter. Nerve-wracking would be the better word, if she had to choose.

 

_._

 

"Don't tell me you're going to also judge me in this matter as well, Septy?" Gladys asked, a snide quality to her tone as she emphasized the ridiculous nickname. Frankly, why they were even conversing was a wonder - considering how opposite they were in nature.

 

"If you mean that I would judge you for using lies and fraud to get what you want within the choirs, then, yes, I will." Septimus Spratt spoke only the facts, "And I admit I'd even be disappointed."

 

"Oh, would you now?" Gladys dryly remarked, decidedly unimpressed by the matter. "Were you not just saying that the only reason we're speaking is because we're being forced to be partners in a class project?"

 

"Well," He was somewhat indignant, even if it were essentially true. "Even so, your overall insidious behavior does not dictate that you have to act in such a fashion. And certainly not when it'll harm not only Mrs. Hughes, but also the choirs."

 

She had just spoken of going to Carson and lying about Mrs. Hughes.

 

However, contrary to what Septimus probably believed, it was less about causing trouble and more about, much to her irritation, owing Sarah O'Brien a favor.

 

"And if this is something I don't have a choice about?" It's a little grating that someone her own year was maneuvering her down this path just because of a mistake she made. But, that was the situation and there was nothing to be done.

 

"We always have a choice." Septimus intoned solemnly, looking as though he really believed the words. Well, that was endearing. But, even as a teenager, Gladys knew what the world was really like. "And if you choose to do what's right you will have my respect."

 

She almost snorted at this, as though she needed his respect.

 

"I see."

 

_._

 

Matthew approached her in the hallway, knowing that she'd be walking this way to get to her last class of the day.

 

"Did you manage to get everyone to meet up?"

 

Sybil nodded, refraining from adding any more details.

 

"I'll text you when I can, give you an update on that."

 

He nodded, before turning around and heading back to class. He'd be texting Anna, Phyllis, and some of the others when it was time - their plan having been drawn together at lunch. Oh, and of course he'd have to text Thomas, too - the baritone did want any plans made to be run by him as well.

 

Well, with any luck, any of the afflicted students that hadn't come forward already would be willing to at least do this.

 

_._

 

The rest of the day passed much as the same: heavy and tiring for many of who just wanted to sing. Though, for the Treble Choir, Mr. Carson had said that they could come see him after school if they wanted to come forward - seeing as how none of them would have been able to during their lunch periods.

 

Truly, as much as he wanted Elsie by his side throughout all of this, he was a little relieved she wasn't here to experience it. He could only imagine her fury at Emma if she'd heard everything, something that he was feeling a little himself.

 

But, it wasn't only her anger that made him relieved she wasn't here: it was also the fact that hearing all of the horrid details - from only the few students that had come forward and not all of them, he was sure of that - were appalling enough that he suspected it was going to be very difficult to even want to be cordial or professional whenever he saw Emma next.

 

**_._**

 

Well, the school day was over. And it was time to make a decision.

 

Andy stood in front of the entrance to the second fourth floor's hallway - still undecided about the matter.

 

"You don't have to be alone for a moment, if you don't want to."

 

The tenor quickly turned to see the baritone coming up the stairs, reassurance written all over his face.

 

"Thank you."

 

And with that, it became clear what they needed to do.

 

_._

 

"Andrew, I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that."

 

He had made it all the way into the choir room, and had even gotten past the whole politely greeting Mr. Carson. And, now that he was being asked what it was he wanted to say, all the words came to a stop for the tenor.

 

"Andrew?"

 

"Mrs. Butte." He continued staring at the ground, pretending to be little detached from it all now that it was coming out - even though his heart was racing and his eyes were very unwilling to look up. "Mrs. Butte talked to me earlier."

 

"This was earlier this week?" The tenor briefly glanced at his friend, hesitant to reveal specific details. But, the baritone looked as though this was Andy's secret to tell - much to the tenor's frustration.

 

_Fine. The truth it is._

 

"Not quite, Mr. Carson."

 

The choir director waited a beat, not wanting to push the teen but also not wanting to have him get stuck in his thoughts.

 

"And what did Mrs. Butte say?"

Andy frowned deeply, wishing that it all didn't bother him so much. He wished that choir wasn't a class at Downton or that he could just drop the class altogether, so he could go back to the way things used to be. He wished he didn't feel so stupid for not mentioning a thing to Mr. Carson, but he also felt idiotic about feeling for wanting to.

 

"Andrew," Charles continued to watch him, having a horrible feeling about whatever the young singer was thinking. "What did Mrs. Butte say?"

 

The tenor looked up with glazed eyes, no longer having the urge to cry even if thinking about the matter was still rather unpleasant.

 

"She said," He almost stumbled in his words, before they began to spill out into the room. "She said that even with beginning choirs like the Bass Choir, 'some level of knowledge and proficiency is expected'. And that 'singing is not a suitable artform' for me because I've got a 'distinct' voice that's not gonna change anytime soon. So, I should just drop choir altogether. Maybe join one of the bands because Mrs. Patmore 'welcomes all levels of talent'."

 

Throughout his tired explanation, he found himself unable to maintain eye contact with Mr. Carson - reverting back to the floor when it came to the more painful recollections. Had he looked up, he would have seen outrage flash briefly behind the man's visage of neutrality. He would have noticed that the choir director's hands briefly fidgeted - not out of nervousness, but out of a desire to just do something.

 

Still, just because the actions went unnoticed didn't mean the sentiment would be lost to the tenor.

 

"Andy,"

 

Some of the fierce anger snaked its way into his tone, even as the man made an effort to kindly speak to the teen. Charles briefly reigned in the wrathful thoughts that wanted to dictate his actions before he continued, knowing that it would do no good to scare the baritone.

 

"You have the potential to go far with singing. Your voice is distinct if only because it's one of the few willing to fully trust your teachers. Not many can claim such a fact."

 

The teacher paused, needing to make sure that the tenor understand that he meant every word.

 

"Mrs. Butte had absolutely no right to speak to you like that. Not only is she most certainly wrong, her actions are beyond inappropriate." There was a cold bite to his words, one that gave the two teens the realization that her actions were definitely not going to be swept under the rug.

 

"What are you going to do, Mr. Carson?" Thomas asked, knowing Andy was probably unable to speak - if only due to the shock of having finally said what he needed to say.

 

"I'm going to make sure she has no further opportunity to do as such."

 

It was calmly spoken as he managed to maintain an even tone. That only served to make the man a more terrifying sight. Somehow, he carried an attitude that blended fury with tranquility, a rage that was far more effective than the uncontrollable wrath that many possessed.

 

"Andrew, Thomas, thank you for coming forth today. I sincerely hope that you both realize just how wrong Mrs. Butte is, and that you continue to give music a chance." He then concentrated solely on Andy. "However, I understand that I have failed you when it comes to stopping this from happening in the first place. Therefore, I also understand if you have no interest in continuing with the choirs."

 

His words struck them both in very different, impactful ways. For Thomas, the baritone was reminded why the students respected Mr. Carson. For Andy, he had just been given a reason to consider staying: he actually made a difference here.

 

Well, for the baritone, he was now realizing that this was the best time to reveal information that should seal Emma Butte's fate at Downton. And while that was pretty much already done, Thomas was not going to risk it.

 

"Mr. Carson, I'm afraid that's not it."

 

The choir director paused, posture stiffening further as he prepared herself for even more appalling news.

 

"Yes, Thomas?" The ice in his voice was meant for Mrs. Butte, true. But the baritone still felt like drawing back in fear a bit. Still, it was time to reveal the woman's foolish requests of sabotage for a second time that week.

 

And if that couldn't happen, he might as well set the stage to reveal just how many students she'd spoken to in such a manner.

 

_._

 

Having been told that Thomas was going to try to get his friend to speak up to Mr. Carson today, Matthew and Sybil had managed to get the others to enjoy the courtyard while waiting for any texts from the baritone.

 

As per usual, he didn't fail to deliver. About ten minutes after Matthew had received the first text, a second one followed.

 

_**Come upstairs now. Bring everyone you can. - TB** _

 

_._

 

It had been surprising to learn that Thomas had been asked to  _sabotage_ the choirs and, more specifically, to get rid of Elsie. At hearing this, his anger had risen to a level he didn't think possible.

 

But, when the door was opened to reveal an apprehensive Joseph Moseley, a frustrated Anna Smith, a withdrawn Daisy Robinson, a distress Claire Morris, a solemn Hannah Roberts, a distressed Henry Lang, a seemingly indifferent Ellie Bell, a weary Peter Gordon, among others…

 

Well, all he could hear was,

 

" _Now, as I had been saying on the stairs, Mr. Carson, I have noticed that there have been a few singers who aren't necessarily capable of maintaining the standards of the choir they reside in…. I think I might personally reach out to some of these students, so as to help them in this matter."_

 

He did not see red at the remembrance. He also did not seethe or foam about in rage, much as his blood boiled at the realization that  _this_ is what she meant.

 

"In an effort to make sure I am able to hear every individual out, I would very much appreciate it if you would all please wait in 403 and come in one at a time to speak with me. How does that sound?"

 

He attempted to blend kindness with serious, to take warmth and flesh it out in a grounded tone that reassured each one of the individuals before him that their words, their experiences, were incredibly important. And that he was so very sorry that this is what happened, but that he just incredibly invested to hearing each and everyone of them out.

 

Once he got every students consent, that's when he started the next, rather necessary, step.

 

"Thomas, if you could please do me one brief favor."

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"If you could find Cora Crawley and make sure that she remains on campus for the foreseeable future. And, please, take Andy with you." The tenor was still stunned into silence, still not able to believe that this was actually happening.

 

_._

 

Cora was only just starting to make her way out of the office when she was halted by a pair she hadn't been expecting.

 

"Mrs. Crawley," Thomas Branson and Andrew Parker did not look pleased to be here. Well, Thomas looked like he was almost relishing this - underneath his serious demeanor. Andrew, on the other hand, looked as though he wanted to cry.

 

She had no idea what on Earth had happened. But, whatever happened, she never wanted to these expressions on these students ever again.

 

Therefore, if it were in her power to change the situation she was about to be presented with, you can bet that Cora Crawley would be doing just that.

 

"What can I do for you, Thomas? Andy?" The baritone briefly took in a breath, taking the lead on speaking.

 

It wasn't reassuring.

 

_._

 

She'd handled the heater, cleaned up Beryl's house, gone for a very long walk, walked over to shout at the passing trains for twenty minutes in an effort to vent, and even sprinted down half a block before realizing she was a music teacher, not an athlete.

 

The heater would still take a few more days - no surprise there. The cleaning only helped make her feel better about having to spend more time at Beryl's. Shouting somewhat alleviated some of her anger, even though the price was the start of a sore throat. And running helped until she felt so weak for only managing half block.

 

All of this was only worsened by the email she received.

 

_**Hello,** _

 

_**A decision has been made in regards to staffing. I will be informing you both of the outcome on Monday before class begins. We will be meeting at 7:15.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles Carson** _


	12. Imps and (In)sincere Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Since this are being posted back-to-back for AO3, __**please make sure to read "Confessions and Decisions" -- it does contain the very things the title hints at!**
> 
> Also, as a heads up, I will be incredibly busy this weekend and possibly the following week. As such, I've tried to pack as much as I could into this chapter and hope it lives up to expectations.

"If Mr. Carson is foolish enough to keep her on-"

 

"Mr. Carson is  _not_ a fool, Beryl, you know that as well as I."

 

"Do we? Not even giving you any proper sort of update other than that email doesn't seem very wise to me!"

 

"That email is about being fair, not 'wise'."

 

"If you say so. But, Elsie, if that woman is still working there I will not stand for it."

 

"Well, if that's the case, I think I'll have enough free time to join you." Elsie archly remarked, garnering a scoff from her friend.

 

"What a riot you are," Beryl sarcastically retorted, handing the woman a packed lunch before she could protest. "And, before you say anything,  _you_ bought all the groceries I made for your lunch. So don't even worry about it."

 

"'If you say so'." Elsie parroted, rolling her eyes as she reluctantly accepted the lunch. Beryl nodded approvingly at this, taking any sign of capitulation she could.

 

"Now, shall we get a move on then?"

 

"I think so." The woman agreed, adding just one more comment. "Though, just this once, I would like you to kindly leave the hysteria to me."

 

"Not a chance." Beryl quipped, somehow coaxing another eye-roll - though this one came from a fonder sentiment.

 

_._

 

He taken a stately, purposeful tempo with his walk today. Since the decision had already been made, there wasn't really a need to dawdle in traversing to the school.

 

Still, his pace had hints of erraticism within it the closer he got to the academy. Worries of his colleagues reactions spiked up his the speed of his step, frustrations that this happened in the first place steered away his composure. Another nightmare last night, one where announcing his decision resulted in Mrs. Butte attacking the auditorium and rendering it annihilated, crept back into his mind - gleefully reminding him of the possibilities.

 

Of course, it was hardly likely that Emma would do such a thing. However, with everything that had happened this semester, it was equally hardly likely that the news would be taken well. That he could expect a smooth and easy process when it came to rid- to letting his colleague leave Downton.

 

All such worries temporarily evaporated the second he'd caught sight of a certain woman. The disconcertion that had haunted him ever since Thursday afternoon promptly gave way to an inordinately grateful relief - especially when he realized they'd be walking in together and would therefore have a chance to converse.

 

And, yes, this gratuity held true even as he took sight of a certain band director who would undoubtedly be inserting herself into the interaction at any moment she could.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes!" She'd only been away from his voice for three days and already it felt it had been too long.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie warmly replied, smiling ever so slightly - remaining cheerful even as she ignored Beryl's discreet upward glance at the interaction - one that spoke of slight irritation that they were acting in such a formal fashion.

 

It's true that the two weren't going to be anything more than cordial colleagues until they could be. They'd even be sure to separate before climbing up the stairs, just to be the on the safe side. However, they were all still five minutes of a meander away from the stairs. So, there was no harm in briefly enjoying one another's company.

 

Besides, seeing him there helped to make this all a little easier. The relief in his eyes at the sight of her, the happiness that hinted in his face, it all served to help alleviate the niggling thought that he would be disappointed in her for not stopping any of this sooner.

 

Little did she know, it wasn't the only form of alleviation she'd be receiving.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes!" Anna seemingly came out of nowhere, ignoring propriety in lieu of giving the woman a hug. "We've missed you  _so_ much last Friday."

 

Charles beamed appreciatively at this, getting the feeling that this interaction was just what she needed. Already, the older woman seemed a little more relaxed at the action - her posture shifting back to a straighter state that was also somehow more at ease. Additionally, her demeanor seemed somewhat less strained after the interaction, as though a weight had been lifted at such kind and genuine words.

 

"So I can see," Elsie remarked, as Anna released her from the hug with a delighted grin - so very pleased to see her favorite music teacher again.

 

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I've got a student government meeting to make," The younger singer remarked, almost disappointed in something that normally brought her such fulfillment. "And I should probably let you get on with your day either way.

 

Yet, neither Charles, Elsie, nor even Mrs. Patmore, from the looks of it, were inclined to part ways with the student - not if her mere smile was taking away such stress.

 

Nevertheless, they did have a meeting to intend to as well. And, time was growing short. Therefore, it only made sense to pick up the pace once more and continue to proceed down the hall.

 

"I suppose this is where we should split for now, too." Beryl commented, as the trio approached one of the stairwells that would take the woman straight up to her domain. "But, if either of you think I'm not visiting during lunch, you'd be quite mistaken."

 

Elsie briefly smiled, though Charles could tell it was far more strained than it had been a minute ago. He nodded, for once regretting the distance between the band and choir rooms. It wasn't that he'd normally be a fan of hearing such rambunctious sound from across the hall. Rather, much to his surprise, it was the reassuring presence of the band director that caused him to think in such a fashion.

 

Beryl departed, making her way up the stairs - occasionally glancing back at them in concern. It was true that, even with the teases and the quips, he could see she was worried about the matter. And that worry was somewhat gratifying, to be quite frank.

 

"Well, one thing's for sure." Elsie eventually spoke, "We won't be able to sort out anything standing here."

 

Charles looked at her, noticing her outward resolve had shifted into something far more firmer. Now, a woman of quiet determination stood by his side - one that seemed intent on remaining as dignified and tenacious as possible.

 

"Quite right," They began to head towards their own stairwells, noticing how quiet it all was. The silence made sense - very little would be occurring in the building at 6:45 in the morning.

 

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he liked it.

 

"I suppose I should chat with Isobel for a moment and check in." Elsie offered, figuring that he'd probably need a moment alone before the meeting. That as well as the fact that they did need to make sure they didn't give anyone any sort of reason to believe that this staffing decision was biased.

 

"If you see Mrs. Crawley, give her my regards." Charles remarked, somewhat unwilling to momentarily part ways - even if he agreed with the reasoning.

 

_._

 

_**Charles,** _

 

_**I must admit, it was quite a pleasant surprise to be hearing from you after all this time. How long has it been since you last reached out to chat? I do believe I'm going to have to insist that we meet up at least once before competing in March - if only to reminiscence about our old days.** _

_**Now, in regards to your question: while I am quite sorry to hear that one of your staff will have to leave Downton, I am also pleased that we do indeed have an opening at The Center. If your teacher is still interested, we would be more than happy to take them on.** _

 

_**Fondly,** _

_**Alice Neal** _

 

Charles stared at the email, rereading it and feeling worse with each time. It wasn't just the fact that he had the suspicion that Alice had personal motivations behind meeting in advance - really, any interaction with the woman really was like being back on the stage, with all the enigmas that came with that.

 

It was also having the realization that, when it came to his principles, he would have to share this information with Emma. That, as much as he sincerely wanted to cast her out of Downton without even a reference, he'd have to at least mention this opportunity.

 

Before the man could continue tackling those particularly troubling moral dilemmas, he can already hear a certain set of keys all the way from the hallway. Not only that, he faintly registered that it was unusually slow pace that accompanied by another set of steps.

 

It was almost 7:15.

 

_._

 

"As you both undoubtedly know," Elsie and Emma were sitting in the front row of the choir chairs while Mr. Carson sat at the piano - facing them both. He'd much rather prefer to have such a conversation from behind a desk, but the configuration of 402 did not allow for such a set-up. This was the best alternative, at least in his opinion. "Downton is facing budget cuts, some of which are requiring all the departments downsize."

 

They respectfully nodded, letting the choir director say what he needed to instead of pushing him to get to the point. However, it would be a mistake to believe that their respectful silence indicated their true feelings on the matter. Ever since they eyed the severance papers he held, there was a discomforting tension that gripped the room.

 

"Unfortunately, that downsizing does impact the choirs." Charles continued, making sure to convey that he really did regret that - regardless of his decision. "Therefore, as you are also well aware of, it has been my responsibility to decide who must leave."

 

Emma sat up in her seat, feeling nervous but confident. Ms. Hughes stumbled so much last week, both metaphorically and literally, that surely Charles would realize how inept she truly was. How, for all her tendencies to attempt to help the choirs, such attempts only hindered the progress that had already occurred.

 

Elsie stiffened, willing herself to remain professional in the matter. Yes, Charles was not a fool and, because he wasn't a fool, he should be letting go of Mrs. Butte. However, he had yet to announce his decision and get straight to the point. Furthermore, to reflect on what Thomas told her about - which surely couldn't be everything that occurred this semester - only caused her blood to boil. Therefore, she was going to be quiet for as long as she could manage, but nobody should expect her to remain silent forever.

 

"This was not an easy decision," The choir director confessed.  _Not at first, at least._ "You are both incredibly competent women who are excellent musicians."

 

That, at least, was true.

 

"However, as with anything, a decision had to be made. And, therefore,"

 

Charles paused, watching them both so very carefully. After hearing what those students had to confess last week, he couldn't help but see the teachers before him as they genuinely were.

 

And he really felt like such am idiot for not seeing reality sooner.

 

"Therefore," He started up once again, "I am sorry, Mrs. Butte, but I'm afraid you will not be able to remain at Downton."

 

Elsie had been expecting it, but to hear those words released so much anger, pain and exhaustion.

 

"Mr. Carson, surely you're joking?" Emma's voice almost cracked in surprise, the woman hardly daring to believe that this was the case.

 

Charles was not having it.

 

"As the contract in my hands states, you will have two weeks to find suitable employment. Furthermore," This was another conflicting part of the contract - one he didn't necessarily care for. "You are also to refrain from speaking of Downton Academy, Downton Academy's choirs and staff in a negative fashion. In return, we will refrain from saying any of a similar tone about your character."

 

Well, Emma was also not having it.

 

"Mr. Carson, you must be joking." Elsie shot off a glare at this, losing more respect for the woman before her. "Why on Earth should I be forced to leave?"

 

"There is also an opportunity for future employment at Neal & Grigg's Center for the Arts," Mr. Carson tersely remarked, rather regretting that said opportunity existed. Truly,  _that_  was a double-edge sword: it rid Downton of Emma, but such an opportunity allowed her to continue on in the academic world.

 

"Am I truly to believe that you and the administration feel I am deserving of such a decision, Mr. Carson?" Emma asked incredulously, shocked to the core that this was to be her treatment. The Center was hardly her opinion of a prestigious institution that deserved her talent. And having been helping the choirs all this time, how could she possibly be relegated to that sort of a caliber? "After all my years of service to Downton, am I to be sent out in such a fashion?"

 

Elsie openly stared at her in disgust, wanting to say something or take some form of action. Really, such a statement was begging for a scathing response and she was half a second from doing as such.

 

Luckily, before she risked her job by shooting off some very choice-words, Charles was already speaking.

 

"I am afraid that this is what needs to happen, Mrs. Butte."

 

"Are you now?" She almost hissed, somehow managing to keep her tone mostly together even as her eyes narrowed and her fists began to curl.

 

"I am indeed. Just as I am afraid that there is one more condition," Charles firmly stated, honestly offended by the fact that Emma appeared to believe that there was a problem with such conditions. Had he been solely in charge of her severance package and contract, there would have been far stricter terms. In comparison, the administration's suggestion was rather kind for everything that had occurred.

 

Though, Cora had absolutely allowed him this one condition.

 

"And, just what is that condition, Mr. Carson?"

 

_._

 

It was with a heavy heart that Andy realized Mrs. Butte was standing in the front of the room - right in the very spot where Mr. Carson would typically reside. Last week must've been some stupid dream if this is where she stood today. And now he could only think himself for saying anything in the first place.

 

_Cleary, I don't actually make a dif-_

 

"Gentlemen," The woman stiffly began, looking as though she didn't believe this was required of her. The sugary quality was not quite gone, but it certainly held clear traces of bafflement. "I am disheartened to announce that I will no longer be staying at Downton Academy. Unfortunately, as with many things in life, there comes a time when circumstances require such a change"

 

The tenor gaped like a codfish as she continued.

 

"Now, it has also been brought to my attention that some of my previous conduct this semester was not appropriate. For that I am sorry." She paused, resisting the urge to look at Mr. Carson; instead, she continued following through on his final condition. "Furthermore, any student who wishes to hear a personal apology about such incidences may visit the choir rooms during their respective lunch periods."

 

"Mrs. Butte will, of course, be apologizing alongside Mr. Carson and myself for what has transpired." Elsie spoke up before anyone could say anything else, not wanting the students to misunderstand the chance they had. Emma did send her a bit of a grimace at this, as though she hadn't appreciated the woman speaking up.

 

However, in all honesty, Elsie didn't care if the woman didn't like her speaking up.

 

_._

 

"Oh, joy," Beryl muttered to herself as she approached the door to 402. Elsie, Mr. Carson, and Mrs. Butte were all inside - clearly making some awkward attempt at conversation.

 

Well, now was as good a time as any to make an entrance.

 

"Actually, Mrs. Butte," Charles interrupted whatever conversation was going on, unaware of Beryl quietly opening the door. "Seeing as how we all owe it to afflicted students to give them a personal apology, it does not make sense for you to avoid taking lunch today with us."

 

_This ought to be interesting._

 

"Of course, Mr. Carson. However, I think you'll find that the students will agree when they say it was a misinterpretation on their part to classify my actions in such a negative light. And that, while I cannot speak to your personal actions, an apology is not actually required for myself."

 

"The students didn't 'classify' it as such," Elsie sharply interrupted, having had much of her patience whittled down when it came to Emma Butte's personal perceptions. "The administration did. And, even if you deem such an action unnecessary, I'd like to remind you of the conditions of the severance contract  _you_ signed this morning."

 

_._

 

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Andy hesitantly asked as he followed his friend up the stairs.

 

"Absolutely," Thomas candidly responded, continuing to trek up to the second fourth floor. "She never had the right to say such words to you, and letting this go let's that behavior become acceptable."

 

The two teens soon made it to the floor of the hour, one eager to get this show on the road whilst the other was trying not to quake in his metaphorical boots.

 

"Andy, Thomas," Luckily for them, the first authority figure they encountered was Mrs. Hughes. "An apology is certainly the least you deserve to have. Please, come with me."

 

They quietly trailed after her, Thomas gently guiding his friend into 402 where Mr. Carson sat with Mrs. Butte. At the sight of the two students, the choir director swiftly stood up - silently encouraging his reluctant companion to also rise to her feet.

 

"Before anything else," Mr. Carson began to intone, repeating a similar sentiment from Friday. "I would like to personally apologize for not recognizing what occurred much sooner. This should never have occurred and, for that, I am sorry."

 

"It's okay, Mr. Carson." Andy mumbled, not really upset with the teacher. He knew that the choir director hadn't purposefully ignored what happened and that he wouldn't have allowed this to happen in the first place.

 

"But, that's the point, Andy," Elsie quietly spoke up. "It is not okay. And, while these words may not be enough to make okay, it is important to make sure they're spoken."

 

Thomas sharply nodded in agreement at this as his friend took in the words.

 

At this, three of the five individuals looked at the one person who hadn't spoken.

 

Throughout this whole little spiel, Emma Butte had remained silent. She stood next to her colleagues, she had indeed hear everything that had been spoken. But by no means did she genuinely listen to it or believe it for a second.

 

Perhaps she had been a bit harsher with her words than intended- no, she really hadn't been. Emma had worked with many a student in the past, and it really only took such words as the ones she had provided for dear Andrew that actually made an impact on the student. To lightly hint at the truth rarely did anything in the long run; really, it was far kinder to just get straight to the point with most students.

 

Honesty, after all, was the best policy.

 

And she honestly didn't see the need for an apology.

 

However, with the contract and the discreet glares now being sent - courtesy of her lovely, upstanding colleagues - an apology seemed to be in order.

 

"Andrew," Emma began, looking right at him. "I admit I could have approached the situation in a better manner. And for that, I am sorry."

 

The glares that she got for that varied between frustration and actual anger. But, they had told her to apologize, not to summon rainbows and chocolates with her words.

 

Besides, she probably would have to do this at least four times every lunch period. And seeing as how there were three lunch periods in total, it would be quite an effort on her part - especially since this really wasn't all that necessary.

 

_._

 

Andy looked at his teacher in disbelief, surprised by how insincere her apology was.

 

But, what struck him even more was how it didn't really matter. Because in that moment he could just see her for what she was.

 

And now that she was leaving, well, he wasn't going to just get over her words. But, he would remember that her words really weren't worth his time - something that would get easier to recall after a while.

 

_._

 

Thomas had asked Phyllis to hang out with Andy in the hallway of the choirs as the baritone did what he did best:

 

Behave like an absolute imp.

 

_._

 

"Ethel? What brings you here?" Mr. Carson asked - rather taken aback by her presence.

 

"Tho- one of my friends reminded me that 'anyone student who wishes to hear an apology' could come by. And I'd like to hear an apology."

 

"And just how many people did this friend of yours remind?" Elsie asked archly, as Mr. Carson was currently reeling in his exasperation over the matter.

 

"... It might have been a group text." Ethel confessed, somewhat sheepishly for once and causing Beryl to snicker quietly in the background. The band director gave a half-hearted attempt at masking it as a cough, but the emphasis would have to be on the word 'half-hearted'.

 

_._

 

"Thomas, I do not believe  _everyone_  requires your support."

 

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes. However," A certain smugness was oozing out of his tone as the baritone looked directly at Emma. "I feel I simply must offer to any and all who require it."

 

_And witness this repeatedly - of that I've no doubt,_ the Scottish woman cynically thought to herself, having encountered this sort of behavior with many performers before.

 

"And I confess I simply need such support," Laura Foster spoke in a dramatically solemn voice, causing even the choir director to raise a questioning eyebrow. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stand such a necessary event as this personal apology if not for Thomas's vital support in the first place."

 

A glance at Elsie told said choir director that the woman was trying to remain quite professional, even if she recognized that Laura was speaking in more of a deadpan than anything else. And though there were cracks in Elsie's respectful demeanor, as evidenced by the occasional lip biting, she did fairly well in maintaining a calm and balanced attitude. Beryl, on the other hand, was outright smirking at such a display.

 

Truth be told, Charles preferred the second soprano to act in such a fashion. Compared to her voice last Friday, a mechanical sound that unwillingly quivered and cracked as it described just what Mrs. Butte said, this facetious manner was a welcomed change.

 

Even if Thomas looked entirely far too smug about the matter.

 

_._

 

Eventually, they were able to shoo Thomas away. Of course, once they did so, Mary somehow miraculously appeared with Anna.

 

"Mary? Mrs. Butte said something to you?" Elsie can't help but ask the question - she would be incredibly shocked if that were indeed the case.

 

"Not quite, Mrs. Hughes." Mary responded elegantly, maintaining a manner of decorum that many could only dream of. "I am accompanying Anna so as to ensure that she receives a proper apology."

 

Anna smiled weakly at this, not really having needed such support even if it was appreciated.

 

"In that case," The choir director began, but Mary arched an eyebrow and silenced him with a simple interruption.

 

"But, whatever do you have to apologize for, Mr. Carson? Or, Mrs. Hughes for that matter?"

 

"Well, we are of the belief that we should have been able to stop such incidents from happening, Mary." Elsie began, having the feeling that Charles was too stunned to properly respond.

 

"While you may believe that to be true," She primly began, reminding the everyone in the room just which family she came from. And with that reminder came another realization:

 

The two teachers recognized that they weren't going to be winning this argument anytime soon, much to the satisfaction of one Mary Crawley and one Beryl Patmore.

 

_._

 

Apologies continued to pour in and out of the choir rooms that day. Throughout the lunch periods, tears and words were exchanged like critiques on songs: frequent, with more to come.

 

And on the few times Mrs. Butte did try to sneak out, someone was there to make sure she remained.

 

Of course, that even meant that she had to stay after school - so as to give the Treble Choir a fair chance to get the apologies they deserved.

 

_._

 

"No, Thomas, we will  _not_ be doing the Cell Block Tango." Elsie was quite against the idea - no matter how entertaining or cathartic that would probably be for the students. Mr. Carson couldn't help but quietly snort to himself at the thought - knowing perfectly well the motivations behind the baritone's suggestion. "And, even if we did we would certainly  _not_ be changing the words to 'She had it coming'."

 

"But, Mrs. Hughes, surely the potential such a piece has-"

 

"Makes it far more suitable for the university level? I couldn't agree more." She shot him a look, deciding to shift conversational gears. "Speaking of agreements, thank you for convincing so many to come forward."

 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Hughes,"

 

"Don't you?" She dryly asked, seeing through his attempt to act innocent. "Well, if you come across the student who helped rally up so many, you tell them that we're proud of them."

 

Having been standing right outside 403, and making sure he was truly out of sight, Charles couldn't help but take a few steps closer to 402. He wanted to respect the moment the teacher and student were currently sharing, as well as make sure it didn't come off as though he'd purposefully been eavesdropping.

 

Only once Thomas walked past him did Charles feel comfortable enough to traverse back into 403.

 

"How did your rehearsal go?" It was the only question he could think of - not that it was particularly clever or eloquent in his opinion.

 

"Far better than I could've hoped." Elsie confessed. "I truly believe that they needed those apologies."

 

"I agree."  _And speaking of needs that only we can fulfill,_ the somewhat improper thought started - begging to be uttered.

 

However, even though Emma Butte was on her way out, Charles couldn't allow such thoughts to become reality just yet.

 

Still, with everything that's happened within this last week - realizing how much life can change in an instant, among other things - he doesn't really want to wait quite as long as he once might've been able to.

 

"So, what's 'The Center'?" Charles couldn't help but groan at the name of the school, as it reminded him of the previous email and everything that came with it.

 

"A mistake." He honestly replied, coaxing out a sharp chuckle of shock at the candor.

 

"I see," Elsie remarked, the level of tease rising very easily to a  _mezzo-forte_. "Why exactly is it a mistake?"

 

He brought them gently back into 403, closing to door behind him so as to tell her in complete confidence.

 

"Not only does such an opportunity seem somewhat undeserved," Though whether he's speaking of Neal & Grigg's opportunity for new talent or Emma's to get a job, he's kept it purposefully cryptic. "I have the funniest feeling that, if Mrs. Butte does take on the job, that's going to become a weapon against me."

 

"What on Earth do you mean?"  _Surely a job isn't a weapon?_

 

"When it comes to vocal studies at The Center, the woman in charge of that - who is also essentially in charge of the theatre -"

 

Charles paused, not wanting to be misunderstood and not knowing if he should be speaking of Alice in such a fashion. However, one look at those curious blue eyes and he might've possibly burned the school down via a toaster.

 

"Well, Alice lives in her own world, in a sense." He was oblivious to Elsie suddenly paying a lot more attention to the conversation, recognizing the name. "And, when we were younger, that was perfectly alright - even endearing in some ways. However, as we grew older, that world that she lives in has become more limiting, more fixed in what it had to be."

 

"And what did it have to be?" At this, he couldn't resist a scoff of frustration - the years of experiencing this coming back.

 

"Full of drama, intrigue. And she's always the star of the show, regardless of what's occurring." He got more into the mini-rant, having never spoken to anyone about the matter. "It's almost like one of those soap operas where, no matter what happens, there is always a sort of dreaded suffering on the show for the leading character - even when it should be alright."

 

"I didn't know you watched such shows." Having let her playfulness slip into  _pianissimo_  out of respect to her college, she kept it there for the time being - especially when he looked so worked up over the matter. Not only that, but Elsie was feeling a little relieved that this Alice character was not someone Charles was incredibly fond of.

 

"I may not care for them, but I don't live under a rock, Mrs. Hughes." The dry response had her chuckling once more, causing his eyes to slightly crinkle in amusement at the sound. Yes, he was bothered by Alice's presence making a reappearance. However, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the interaction before him.

 

"No, I think I remember where you live, Mr. Carson." She lightly retorted, garnering his own tickled sound of laughter.

 

"Do you now? And where's your proof - when's the last time you visited?"

 

It was spoken in platonic good-nature, true. Still, after a few seconds they both heard the tell-tale signs of something a bit more suggestive. Something that hinted of a longing - a feeling that was no longer interested in staying in the shadows.

 

"She did sign her contract." Charles brought up, "And we already submitted it to the administration for processing."

 

"But, she's not gone yet, Mr. Carson." Elsie wearily remarked, all that tension starting to make a reappearance once more. "And who knows what she'd be able to do if she somehow caught wind of this occurring in the middle of the transition?"

 

Truly, of the two of them, she expected herself to be the one more inclined to be risqué in this regard. However, that really did not seem to be the case - judging by his frustrated and nearly mopey demeanor.

 

"Mr. Carson, are you intentionally using puppy-eyes in an attempt to change my mind?"

 

"I've seen the students do this many times in the past, surely it's working now?" She lifted an eyebrow, putting on an air of being unimpressed - even if she couldn't deny that the sight was exasperatingly endearing.

 

Truly, working with teenagers day in and day out appears to have quite the impact on a person, whether they know it or not.

 

"It's just, as guilty as I feel about everything's that happened, I also feel as though choosing unhappiness as a sort of penance is not the best route in this matter. And, I really do believe that going back to not even speaking to each other is following that route."

 

"Who said anything about not even speaking to each other?" Elsie asked, now starting to get an inkling of why he was so frustrated. "I only said no to visiting your house right now, nothing more."

 

He did a double take upon hearing that remark, shocked that he had misunderstood.

 

"So, I take it we can continue to speak to one another throughout this?" She smiled encouragingly at this, bringing back a twinkle of mischief as she thought through her next response.

 

"How else are we to communicate when we feel it's time for more?"

 

Elsie could see a hint of a blush overtake the man before her at such simple words that were just as flirtatious. He didn't splutter nor harrumph at her statement, even though he did look as though he was deeply mulling over her words - words that truly bordered on a salacious attitude in his opinion.

 

"Now," She held out her hand - content to start here once again. "Even though we will have to let go once we get to the stairs, perhaps we can allow ourselves this?"

 

He gladly took it in a heartbeat, having dearly missed such contact.

 

To the point where, as they began to walk out of 403, she realized something.

 

"Mr. Carson, walking at  _adagio_ is hardly conducive to getting us out of the building in a timely manner."

 

"Did you not just remark that we'd have to let go once we've arrived at the stairs?" He pointedly asked, getting an eye-roll before he even finished the rhetorical question.

 

"I suppose I did, yes." Dryer than sandpaper, her voice still held traces of mirth. "I take it you'll speed up after that?"

 

"It's quite possible, yes." The tongue-in-cheek tone echoed playfully throughout the hallway, only serving to coax more of a proper chortle this time.

 

"In that case, I suppose this exercise only serves as a tempo practice to refresh our memory." She began to slow them down further, bringing their pace closer to a crawl. "What do we think this is?"

 

Their joined hands swung and swayed a little as he tried to get a feel for the time.

 

" _Lento_ , I'd say," He eventually responded.

 

"And now?" Even slower than before, they were now inching across the floor.

 

" _Grave_ ," Was the decisive remark.

 

"And how about now?"

 

She brought them to a stop, hands still firmly grasped through it all.

 

For a moment, it was though they were in the middle of a  _fermata_ \- a pause as lengthy as they wanted. No choirs to cue back in, no accompaniment to bring into the fold, just a beautiful silence.

 

And it was at this that Elsie felt, in such a sweet and simple moment, her phone buzz repeatedly - signaling a phone call. Eyes now rolling in frustration, her free hand dove into a pocket to retrieve the now wretched device.

 

"Beryl?" Charles Carson was not going to be upset with the woman now calling, he was not. Even if she just interrupted something very near and dear to his heart, he was not going to be upset with her.

 

At least, he was trying to not be upset with her.

 

_"I meant to ask sooner: did the repair company mention when they'd be coming out to fix the heater?"_

 

"Tomorrow," She ignored his questioning gaze, realizing that he didn't know of her housing problems. "It should be repaired tomorrow."

 

_"Good to hear."_

 

"Is that all?" There was almost a terse quality to her voice, one that Beryl picked up on immediately.

 

_"Caught you at a bad time, have I?"_

"You could say that."

_"In that case, I'll leave you be. Make sure to tell Mr. Carson I say 'Hi'!"_

 

"I'll be sure to do so," She automatically replied, not realizing the trap that had been set until Beryl started to cackle over the phone. Charles cringed, having caught the full conversation and knowing full-well the implications.

 

He also knew just as well that to respond to Mrs. Patmore would only be to fan the flames.

 

" _Oh and do make sure to also give him a hug for me!"_ The cheeky response, somehow making it through the cackles and snorts of outrageous delight, was heard loud and clear in the hallway.  _"I can just imagine that he's probably less than a foot away!"  
_

 

"I'll see you later, Beryl," Elsie spoke through gritted teeth as she hung up, mentally cursing the fact that she spoke without thinking.

 

"Well, that was an awkward conversation." Charles eventually remarked, so glad that even in such a moment she was still holding his hand.

 

"I'll say." Elsie dryly spoke, "I'm sorry if that's caused you some embarrassment, because I must confess I am."

 

"I'm not embarrassed, exactly. I do not think embarrassment has much of a part to play in such a conversation." He confessed, "Especially not when I hope we have future conversations of a similar nature."

 

"Conversations where Beryl's questioning me about my heater?" Still caught up in the tease in Beryl's tone, she was rather confused by his reasoning if that were the case.

 

"Conversations in which the implication is that we are together."

 

"Oh," He waited for a more proper response, very much hoping he hadn't just crossed some sort of line with such a confession. "I quite agree - that is implication I don't mind."

 

Her words may not have been terribly romantic, seeing as how she was still processing everything and it wasn't in her nature to speak with grandiose and flowery language.

 

But, that didn't matter to him much, seeing as how they were still holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Emma is almost out the door, it's time to start focusing on the true priorities of the matter: the competition, the solos, the fundraising, and the concerts. And the Chelsie romance, of course ;D :)


	13. Cloudbursts and Unexpected Queries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience - as such, this chapter is going to not only be a little lengthier, but also include more than one day's worth of activity so as to make up for the lack of updates for the past few days.
> 
> Also! I've got to confess that my sister apparently, with no inspiration from me, mind you, was making an apple crumble within the last week. And seeing as how Valentine's will soon be upon us, clearly that meant I simply had to post something romantic in the Chelsie realm this week :)

 

_._

_Tuesday, January 29th, 2019_

_**Mr. Carson,** _

 

_**I unfortunately had a fall yesterday and will not be able to attend classes for at least the rest of the week. My most sincerest apologies for inconveniencing the choirs in such a fashion. I am sure both you and Ms. Hughes will be able to manage perfectly fine without me. Still, an apology felt deserved in this regard.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Emma Butte** _

 

He wanted to delete the email on sight - having no desire to even respond. Not when he was finally begin to read the superficiality dripping from such words.

 

Though, the email did remind him of another dilemma unwittingly involving Mrs. Butte.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Charles really wasn't interested in adding to her plate, seeing as how she had far too much on it already.

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"It's just that, seeing as how Mrs. Butte will soon no longer be a member of the staff," He resisted the urge to scowl at the thought of that woman, his feelings towards his soon-to-former colleague not quite as kind as they once were. "It occurred to me that the 'Best of Downton' is less than two months away."

 

Elsie's shoulders tightened at this, completing the train of thought.

 

"And little do they know, our soloist was Mrs. Butte." He grimly nodded.

 

"And, since I have no interest in involving other members of the staff when we are perfectly capable of handling such a situation," Something she agreed with, even if it meant they were a bit more stressed out because of it. "I was wondering what your thoughts on the matter would be."

 

Elsie went over the problem in her mind while Charles waited patiently for her own reflection. The problem was, she could already see the answer - and it was one she didn't necessarily care for.

 

Although she was the better accompanist out of the pair, she knew he felt more comfortable with the role of directing rather than singing. That there was a certain joy for him in orchestrating concerts, maneuvering the choirs through various pieces, and maintaining a spotlight while simultaneously not being the center of attention.

 

Furthermore, "Have you learned any solos in your career you feel particularly confident about, Mr. Carson?"

 

For once, the man was somewhat tentative in his response.

 

"Not particularly, no. Not anything in the quite some time, at least. I'm sure I could pick something up before the show if it is required." She smiled at this, appreciative of his outward willingness even when he looked far more hesitant to volunteer his voice.

 

"I think we both know that it's better, with everything else we now have to deal with, if I performed in Mrs. Butte's stead." He looked adorably relieved at this statement, which took away the urge to throttle him for not just asking her to sing a solo in the first place.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. That is greatly appreciated." She nodded, already beginning to ponder which songs to select.

 

"I will refresh my memory on a few pieces and select something that will also have a fairly easy accompaniment." Oddly enough, for once nothing was immediately coming to mind.

 

But, perhaps that was because this was a personal matter.

 

In any case, she did have one last remark on the subject:

 

"Make no mistake: you owe me for this." At this, Charles agreed in a most serious manner.

 

Well, soloist he was not.

 

Wise man, he was learning to be.

 

_._

 

"Where's Mrs. Butte today, Mrs. Hughes?" Alfred dared to ask after not catching sight of the woman in question. She shared a look with Mr. Carson, a silent conversation occurring in a matter of seconds.

 

"Mrs. Butte has taken a fall and will be unable to teach for the rest of the week." At Alfred's bursting grin, Charles sharply rebuked such a reaction - if only because of the principle of the matter.

 

"Alfred, there is no need for that level of disrespect." He sternly remarked.

 

"Even though it's Mrs. Butte?"

 

"Especially because it's Mrs. Butte." Elsie interrupted whatever lecture had been brewing, "To let that woman influence your attitude is to give her far more power than she deserves."

 

Mr. Carson sent another look at his colleague, not thinking that was quite the best way to speak about the matter - it did not carry quite the professional tone he'd been striving for. However, she was adamant in her statement and the emotions surrounding it - not having any intention of changing it any time soon.

 

_._

 

"How do you think the choirs are getting on, Mrs. Patmore? What with everything happening?"

 

Beryl looked at Mrs. Bird, having been giving the matter some thought as well.

 

"I think we'll be lucky if we survive this next month, let alone the semester."

 

The stress of running such a program was tolerable during the winter - when there were no competitions or potential travel plans. However, in the spring - when event after event occurred - it'd be a wonder if Elsie or Mr. Carson didn't explode.

 

_._

 

He'd been practicing the accompaniment for Bel Canto - having offered to take over for that, now that Mrs. Butte was on her way out - when she'd gotten distracted.

 

"You'd think they'd stop sending emails once you unsubscribe." Elsie nonchalantly remarked - not particularly interested in the message she'd just received. "But, apparently, someone needs a nanny over in Ripon."

 

The piano playing came to jarring halt as he processed her words.

 

"You mean to tell me you're still looking for a new job?"

 

She paused in looking over her phone, eyes glancing at him in confusion.

 

"Mr. Carson, I stopped the job search after Monday's announcements. I just have to continue unsubscribing apparently." Confusion shifted into a darker curiosity. "Unless I should still be looking for a new job?"

 

"Of course not!" Charles firmly replied. But, even he had his moments of doubt. "Not unless you want to, that is."

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie dryly spoke, "Do you think I'd want to search for a new job when I love the one I already have?"

 

He shook his head, far too relieved to eloquently respond.

 

_._

 

"Now, Jimmy," It was always an arduous time working with the tenor on his solo. And, though Händel's "The Trumpet Shall Sound" was indeed proving to be worthy match for the singer, her patience was becoming just as challenged. "When it comes to -"

 

"To the part that I may need slight help with," Jimmy interrupted, caught up in his own world. "I don't suppose you have any advice, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She had several things she could have said, not caring for being interrupted by someone who was struggling far more than he'd like to admit.

 

"I think I may have something, yes." Elsie eventually responded.

 

"I'm willing to try anything, Mrs. Hughes - within reason, of course."

 

"Of course," She dully echoed, finding it difficult to stay energized. Jimmy did know his song, yes, and he did meet with her frequently to rehearse. But he did not genuinely take her advice for the most part, and he seldom practiced what was needed to perfect his solo. "Händel is notorious for sections of music notes just like this, as I'm sure you know."

 

"Yeah, I knew that." Jimmy confidently replied, even as his eyes seemed to be processing this information.

 

"I'm sure." She smartly replied, not interested in challenging his knowledge. "In any case, to help with this style of singing, I'd like you to pretend that there is a set of drawers in front of you. And, that each shelf within this drawer can hold a certain range of notes."

 

Jimmy frowned, not necessarily buying the metaphor.

 

"But, Mrs. Hughes, there aren't any shelves in 403. How exactly am I supposed to imagine this?"

 

_._

 

Mr. Carson had been at the piano once more, this time going through all of the material for the Treble Choir as many times as he could. There was no need to lapse in perfection just because they were losing a member of the staff, after all.

 

Nevertheless, the choir director certainly came to a halt in his rehearsal upon hearing one of the doors to 402 get mercilessly pulled opened. And once Elsie briskly marched into the room with James in tow - bringing in some music sheets, by the look of it - he definitely would not be continuing in his rehearsal.

 

"Mr. Carson," She began, "You don't mind if I show Jimmy the music library as part of an exercise for his private rehearsal, do you?"

 

"Well, I don't see why not." He responded, with only a hint of hesitation tinting his voice.

 

"Good." She swiftly walked over to the shelving units, pointing to each individual shelf. "If you look at those and imagine which notes belong on which shelf, will you be able to visualize the idea?"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"Excellent." The woman turned back to her colleague, "Mr. Carson, may I also borrow that piano?"

 

However, she was already marching over to him and forcing him to scoot over on the piano bench.

 

So much for it being a question or a request.

 

In any case, the choir director found he didn't really mind. Once the shock wore off and he realized just how close to him she was sitting, and all in the name of academics, Charles found himself rather tolerant of James's rehearsal continuing in 402 for a change.

 

_._

 

"You want me to do what exactly?"

 

She'd gotten the idea upon watching Mary's diaphragm not engage to a proper extent. Of course, she saved the idea for a day Mr. Carson needed to focus on administrative work - so as to not to psych out the first soprano or cause any potential embarrassment.

 

"I want you to squat." Elsie repeated herself. "I'd like you to stand against the wall, and when you get to the hardest part of the song I'd like you to squat against the wall as you begin to sing it. I can demonstrate, so as to show you what I mean."

 

Mary nodded, not really set on performing the exercise but wanting to see what it entailed. Elsie proceeded to demonstrate, her voice sailing out beautifully as she thoroughly engaged her core muscles. The support was phenomenal, the clarity of tone much better all around, and the overall sound definitely improved.

 

Still, for someone as refined as the eldest Crawley sister, beautiful singing did not entail possibly looking like a fool.

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but I honestly don't feel comfortable doing such an exercise." An answer the older woman had been expecting.

 

"Well, I won't force you to do anything that scares you," Elsie began kindly, intentionally using a description that Mary would object to.

 

"I never said I was 'scared', Mrs. Hughes, only uncomfortable."

 

"Of course. In any case, I can tell you're not ready. So, let's just move on and continue working on emoting." After all, emoting was the other thing Mary did not necessarily care for that was just as important for a song to succeed.

 

And if the eldest Crawley sister was going to back out of engaging her core muscles, she'd have to work on invoking her core emotions instead.

 

_._

 

"Surely, there is someone you know who could write for the Facebook page," Rose exclaimed, having absolute faith in her cousin. "You write for the school newspaper, after all!"

 

"Rose, even if I did - which I'm not saying I do," Edith began to remark, already thinking through the list of people who would possibly be interested in such a matter. "Having an active Facebook page might not be enough to get the donations we need."

 

"What about CJ?" The soprano was adamant in her inquiry, "Whoever she is, she's got a witty sense of humor - maybe she could put that towards writing for the choirs. And since she's got such a following, that'd have to get attention."

 

"'CJ'? Write for the Facebook page?" CJ was an anonymous advice columnist and blogger who sent in frequent tips on school-related questions. For the last two years, they had much of the school roaring with laughter over sassy pieces of advice - garnering a reputation for being quite the writer.

 

"Yeah," Rose nodded enthusiastically, "You're probably the only one who knows CJ's real identity - surely you could get her to help us out, even if she only mentions the choirs in a post."

 

"I'll have to see about that," The younger singer began to grin at this. "But, I make no promises!"

 

"Of course," Rose said, in far too happy a tone to reassure her cousin. "I completely understand."

 

_Do you?_ Edith sarcastically wondered, having just the slightest inkling that her sweet cousin did not.

 

_._

 

He had walking down to the library when they'd crossed paths.

 

"Thomas," She coldly spoke, coming to a stop at the sight of the baritone.

 

"Sarah," He greeted in response, not particularly interested in her company at the moment.

 

"What brings you to the library? Not another date with Andy, I hope?" It's dripping with a sardonic tone, determined to verbally lash out at someone who was now a former friend.

 

"No, I figured I'd let you and Mrs. Crawley do the dating," He snarked back - reminding her of the friendship she'd been striking up with Cora Crawley from the beginning of her time at Downton.

 

It's part of the reason why the Crawley family hadn't realized the extent of Mrs. Butte's torment - Sarah would pop by the office on occasion and tell Cora of how much they were excelling as a choir now. The alto hadn't been foolish enough to try to drag Mrs. Hughes's name through the mud with the administrator. But, she had indeed been invested in crafting a cordial relationship with the woman.

 

Now that Mrs. Butte was on her way out, however, the conversation was turning into a more "hesitant" attitude as Sarah was beginning to ever-so-accidentally let slip of the various comments the teacher had made to the students.

 

"Funny." She said after a scoff, "Hope you're still laughing when you finally get what's coming to you."

 

After all, Thomas confessing had put Sarah in a bit of a tight spot with Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. And though she managed to wiggle her way out of getting in severe trouble - having played the card of feeling immensely pressured by Mrs. Butte to involve other students - she was still reprimanded accordingly. Therefore, if her former friend thought she wasn't holding a grudge, he was dead wrong.

 

"I'll be sure to send anything right back," Thomas remarked, appearing to be bored when conversing about such a topic. She harrumphed at this, not caring for his tone and deciding to take her leave.

 

"Thomas?" Andy had been waiting inside the library for him, staying put until Sarah left. "Who was that?"

 

"You know I had been talking to Sarah, Andy." The tenor looked a little embarrassed at being caught, somehow managing to recover relatively easily.

 

"Just don't do anything stupid, alright?"

 

"Why would I?"

 

It wasn't an agreement to Andy's request. But, then again, agreements weren't really in his nature.

 

Besides, Sarah did stupid things all the time. Why should he refrain?

 

_Wednesday, January 29th, 2019_

 

"Now, gentlemen, what is it that you can always give more of?" Elsie archly raised an eyebrow, knowing that they were all aware of the answer by this point.

 

"More vowel." Many dutifully chorused in response.

 

"That's right. And why do I ask for more of that?"

 

"Because it cuts off the note and makes it difficult to hold out the sound." Septimus succinctly spoke. "It's the difference between having a choppy sound and a smoother sound when singing."

 

"Correct. For instance, when your mouth is already beginning to pronounce the 'M' in 'bloom', the potential sound is already lost to the consonant." Several nodded at this, having heard an equivalent of this lecture before. However, she wasn't convinced they actually understood the difference it makes.

 

Therefore, another exercise seemed to be in order.

 

"Gentlemen," Elsie began once more. "I'd like to challenge you to sing the entire first page with only the vowels."

 

They all blinked.

 

"That means, instead of ' _silence'_ I want you to sing ' _Aw-I-aw-eh'_ to enunciate every single vowel and resounding diphthong. Instead of 'bloom', I'd like ' _oo'_. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes. I just don't understand why we need to do it like that." Alfred spoke unwittingly, garnering an indignant look from Mr. Carson in the process - even though the man had been pretending to grade homework from his desk.

 

Fortunately, Elsie was long used to being questioned.

 

"Vowel modifications and diphthongs aside, I think you'll find that doing this exercise allows for a freer sound."

 

She was, of course, correct. Doing as such meant that their mouths were constricted by shaping consonants. It also meant the sound wasn't being cut off too early, as she had already explained.

 

Honestly, the only surprise was that of the gentlemen's when they realized just how correct their teacher was.

 

Though, to be fair, in every class there always seemed to be traces of shock after she reminded them of the basic principles to singing: express more than you think you need to, open your mouth more than you think you need to, engage with your core muscles more than you think you need to, and rehearse more than you think you need to.

 

Still, if they kept forgetting, she'd have to write it all out on the classroom boards in  _permanent_ marker.

 

_._

 

Charles had been perusing the music library, intent on sorting miscellaneous sheet music that never failed to be unsorted. It was a task that would have normally been delegated to Mrs. Butte - or, now, Mrs Hughes. However, Mr. Carson had felt it inordinately wrong to let someone take charge of this matter. It was his music library, after all, and it was he who was the choir director.

 

Still, even though he had chosen this activity to experience a moment of solitude, he wasn't meant to be alone. The clicking of her heels, combined with the soothing sound of the keys still cheekily attached to her lanyard, informed him of her return to 402.

 

"Mr. Carson?" One of the best aspects of the music library was that its shelving units and overall layout allowed for one to remain hidden in the stacks of sheet music. With the shelves standing as tall as they did, they made for a great escape from students and staff alike.

 

Though, whenever he was in her presence, Charles was never one for hiding.

 

"Over here, Mrs. Hughes." The click-clack of curiosity approached him, the unspoken questions sifting through the air as the woman joined him. Why he was here in the library, why he was carrying several random pieces of music, why do this now, these questions were soon followed by many more. "I was getting a head start on sorting some of the music."

 

"My, my," Elsie calmly remarked. "Isn't that a matter that should be left to me?"

 

"Typically, yes," She could already feel a contradictory phrase on the way, "However, in this particular instance, I feel it best if that responsibility were mine."

 

His colleague nodded, continuing to let him sort the music for the moment. However, soon enough she noticed how his movements were mechanical, far more lifeless than they ought to be. That the process was expedient compared to the normal consideration he'd give such a task. Sorting music could be tedious at times, true. But, it shouldn't be done in what was rather a robotic fashion - especially for someone who held such an activity in inordinately high regard.

 

And, the worse part was realizing that this had been his treatment of all music-related tasks ever since he'd realized the damage Emma Butte had done. Ever since that meeting on Monday, all the tasks he'd conducted as the choir director were far more mechanical and far more merciless in many regards.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie began, having already recognized the obstinate tendencies to overwork one's self unnecessarily so.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?" As much as he enjoyed conversing with the woman, Charles really did want to devote his current time to organizing the space as best as he could. He'd been working here ever since she stepped out to grab a quick lunch from the vending machines. And seeing as how it was a simple task, one of many that he'd been commencing with during the lunch periods ever since the start of the week, he didn't necessarily believe her company to be required.

 

Besides, with Mrs. Butte now leaving, they needed to pick up the slack and make sure nothing fell apart. Surely, there was something else Mrs. Hughes could do at this time to ensure the choirs' success?

 

Elsie gently placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

 

"As someone recently reminded me, you don't have to follow this route of penance." The woman kept a light touch on his shoulder as she rephrased his earlier statement, willing him to understand that he didn't need to push himself in such a fashion.

 

"Yes, well," Charles gave a bemused smile at this, recognizing the sentiment even as he didn't necessarily care for it in this moment.

 

"'Well'?" She repeated, needing him to realize that this really wasn't necessary. And, after a few heavy moments of thought, he finally placed the music down.

 

"Thank you."

 

He nodded, unable to vocalize much else.

 

Standing in the silence of the music library, they were both soon reminded of a very different moment that occurred in almost the same spot. A moment of searching for particular pieces worthy of being considered finales, a moment in which the very air before them breathed a different sort of life into their relationship.

 

Guilt hadn't weighed them down at the time. Nor had there been a tired quality in the space back then, a dreadful sense that cruelly drained them of energy. Those had been days of curiosity, class periods filled with a playful quality that also challenged everyone involved - not just the choirs.

 

For a minute, he craved a return to those days.

 

But, worse still, he also craved to do something incredibly risqué. Something that Mrs. Hughes herself had essentially stated as indecent at such a time.

 

And, at a time where the choirs needed them both to be the best teachers they could be, that sort of thinking was unforgivable.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He started to speak, but her eyes shifted their direction back towards him - recognizing the path his words were about to tread. Said words carried enough self-reproach to be spotted a mile away.

 

"Please remember, Mr. Carson," Elsie couldn't allow him to continue to place the blame of everything on himself. Nor could she allow him to travel down this dreadful path his thoughts wanted to traverse. "That there is nothing to forgive."

 

Charles sharply inhaled, taken aback by such words and by the fact that those had been his exact words to Cora at the very start of all this - back when the administrator had wanted to meet with him.

 

Elsie eyed him carefully, watching him take in the sentiment. And not only was she very much hoping that the sentiment was not only heard, she was also hoping it had been truly absorbed.

 

"If that is the case for me, then you must remember that the same holds true for you, Mrs. Hughes." Her eyes misted over a tad at the emotion now steering his voice. Charles himself found his eyes matching hers in regards to the mist, a swell of uncontrollable feeling rising within him once more - reminding him of what he wanted.

 

He really shouldn't. Not now, not when his desire wasn't the point of this conversation.

 

But, he still felt a longing to-

 

Soothing fingers began to tenderly wipe away traces of water from his cheek - traces he had hardly noticed - and unknowingly started to break his resolve. His hand subconsciously reached out to lovingly rest on her shoulder - hardly aware of the action.

 

Charles unknowingly leaned into the touch, not having expected such contact but desiring it nevertheless. Such a touch caused all issues of propriety and duty to momentarily leave, overwhelming his senses with the thought of this intimate solace. She relaxed under his hand resting so warmly, so calmly, on her shoulder - touched beyond words that they were sharing this rather trusting interaction. Her own fears and concerns had long since departed - having been forced away for as long as she could stay here in this moment with him.

 

How could he not want to enjoy this to fullest degree possibly?

 

"Mrs. Hughes," It had taken him a solid minute to begin to broach the silence. But, he now had to make that decadent request - his mind could think of nothing else. "This may seem highly inappropriate, and I completely understand if you would choose to refrain from doing as such. However, I had been wondering if-

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" Rose had no idea where either Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson currently were, but this was her time slot for a solo rehearsal. And, so she repeated herself - having thought she'd heard voices somewhere in the room upon opening the door. "Are you in here?"

 

The younger soprano gave her teacher a few seconds to respond, and was ready to turn around and leave 403 when a voice finally spoke out - hidden by the bookshelves within the music library.

 

"I'll be just a minute, Rose!" Something seemed a little wrong with Mrs. Hughes, but perhaps that was just Rose's imagination.

 

Either way, it was time to rehearse.

 

"That's alright, I'll wait for you in 403!" And with a cheerful step, she turned around and left the room.

 

_._

 

Elsie looked back at Charles, but Mr. Carson was already letting go of her and returning to sorting through the music.

 

"What was it you were going to say?" To see him retreat so obviously was disappointing to say the least, even if she somewhat understood.

 

"It's nothing that cannot wait until later, Mrs. Hughes." He refrained from saying much else, causing her to quietly sigh.

 

"Alright," With Rose waiting for her in the other room, she didn't have as much to talk this through as she'd like. "Just know that I do want to know what you were going to say."

 

Because, well, for a moment she thought he was going to suggest something she'd be all too willing to agree to.

 

Of course, now they wouldn't know for quite some time - if it all.

 

Elsie turned around as best as she could to slip out of the music library. But, before she left, the woman had one final remark.

 

"Mr. Carson," He paused in his work, turning a bit in her direction. "I truly believe that I would have agreed to anything you were about to suggest."

 

Charles properly met her gaze at this, as she tried to convey the truth in her statement. And after a few seconds, he did look a bit more convinced than he had, post-interruption.

 

"I do believe you may be right, Mrs. Hughes." She faintly smiled at that, feeling relieved.

 

However, once she left him alone to his thoughts, a bemused look contorted his expression - removing any traces of confidence.

 

"It's also just as likely, if not more so, that you are quite possibly wrong."

 

After all, the desire he had was one that had been far more salacious than just walking or holding hands. And, even if she had agreed to the matter, surely she'd be of the opinion that now was not the time or place for such an interaction.

 

As he was beginning to remember, they had a duty to their students first and foremost. And, with such a stressful time upon them, it undoubtedly would become necessary to stop any progression in their relationship.

 

Therefore, as much as he'd like to believe she would have wanted to say yes, he could only assume that some form of rejection would be her eventual answer.

 

_Thursday, January 30th, 2019_

 

Edith had caught him first thing in the morning, quite pleased that he was alone for once - instead of working with Gladys on their class project.

 

"Septimus," The young lady began as she approached him.

 

"Edith," It was almost endearing to see the surprise now drawn all over his face - he clearly hadn't been expecting her. "Is everything alright?"

 

"It is, and it's not." She was unintentionally cryptic in her response, thinking back to her earlier conversations. "I actually wanted to request something,"

 

Septimus, or rather the infamous CJ that many in the school adored, looked warily at her. The middle Crawley sister hardly ever approached him, and requests could be a hit or miss - depending on their nature.

 

"I think it's going to be something you'll rather like, if I'm to be quite honest." She continued, hoping that he would agree.

 

_._

 

" _Since to look at things in bloom_

_Fifty springs are little room"_

 

John Bates smiled appreciatively as he listened in on Anna's solo rehearsal. The song was uplifting and sweet, an escape from the stresses of the semester.

 

" _About the woodlands I will go_

_To see the cherry hung with snow."_

 

Mrs. Butte had, much to his immense irritation, tried to knock Anna's confidence throughout the semester. But, the younger singer didn't let it happen - something that he and Mary were rather happy about. And, now that that woman was on her way out, Anna was blossoming as a vocalist - just like the trees in her song.

 

Mrs. Hughes finished the last of the accompaniment with a proud smile, pleased at how the song was turning out. John couldn't help but clap along, just as pleased. And, Anna was unable to keep an endearing smile off her face - excited she was really getting into the solo.

 

"Excellent job, Anna." The older woman remarked. "Your breath support is improving bit by bit, and you're continuing to bring Housman's poetry to life."

 

The endearing smile shifted into a delightful grin.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes!" Anna looked back at the music, studying it carefully once more. "It really is interesting the message of the song - that Housman writes of how important it is to take advantage of life, because it's not a guarantee."

 

"It's true that life is not a guarantee." The teacher agreed, looking a little lost in her thoughts for a moment.

 

"Mrs. Hughes? Everything alright?" Even though the woman seemed distracted for only a minute at most, it was obvious that Anna's comment had thrown her for a loop.

 

"Quite alright, thank you." She shook her head slightly, redirecting her focus. "Anna, there's a technique I'd like you to try this time around."

 

"What would you like me to do, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Now that you're understanding the song and singing it all the way through, let's work on dropping that jaw. I'd like you to place a few of your fingertips around this area of your head, right next to the ear on both sides." She demonstrated by placing both of her forefingers on the sides of her head - one resting on the left side and the other staying on the right. "There should be an area near your ear that, when you drop your jaw a good amount, you can feel create what almost feels like a hole. That's when you'll know you're giving yourself enough space to sing."

 

Anna tried to copy her teacher's movements, lowering her jaw as a test to see if she could feel the difference. At first, nothing seemed to change as she continued to adjust. But then, out of the blue, her eyes lit up in surprise and her jaw literally fell open in incredulity.

 

"That's  _so_  cool, Mrs. Hughes!" To hear her speak so casually was a treat for the older woman, as the younger singer tended to speak in a more formalized manner around her.

 

"I agree," Elsie lightly commented, "Now do you think you can try to sing again and keep your forefingers in those same spots?"

 

"Yes, I can."

 

_._

 

" _How can I keep from singing?"_

 

Elsie beamed at Gwen and Sybil as they finished the last lyric of the song, both girls grinning as the duet came to a blended end. They'd always had fervor and enough energy to make it work, but now the two young women were beginning to truly hear one another's voices - giving the song's harmonies a greater chance to shine.

 

And, for once, she was not the only one clapping for the pair as they finished.

 

"I see it's coming together," Mr. Carson remarked from the doorway, having needed a break from administrative tasks.

 

"Indeed it is, Mr. Carson." Elsie proudly remarked, pleased that the second sopranos were working so much on the duet in their spare time.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes." Gwen politely said, a soft smile on her face.

 

"Yes, thank you!" Sybil chimed in, rather pleased herself. "And speaking of coming together, I was wondering if you had a chance to look at the Go Fund Me page lately."

 

"I have gotten a chance, yes. And, £1,058 is quite a tidy sum - considering we only just started the page less than two weeks ago."

 

"My parents may have mentioned it at a party they went to recently," Sybil remarked in lieu of an official explanation, sheepishness coloring her tone.

 

"But, you do realize that we still have to raise at least £8,500 in order to secure taking even twenty students abroad, let alone the chaperones necessary." Mr. Carson couldn't help but add in, not wanting to get their hopes up too much.

 

"You're right," Sybil agreed all too easily. "But, that's where the Youtube channel could come in!"

 

"'Youtube channel'?" "I take it Rose has shared her idea with you?"

 

"She did." "Mrs. Hughes, what is she talking about?" But Elsie was not going to give him any explanation, nor Sybil or Gwen any cause to rejoice just yet.

 

"I'm afraid I have to discuss this with Mr. Carson before any decision can be made. However, I have given her idea a great deal of thought."

 

Well, Charles didn't like how it was almost as though he weren't in the room. But, judging from Elsie's tone, he'd have to learn to deal with it for the time being.

 

_._

 

They were preparing for the last class of the day when she finally decided to just ask. Having already spent the previous lunch periods either working or conversing about simpler topics - such as Rose's social media ideas - she could no longer refrain from inquiring on this particular subject.

 

"Mr. Carson," He looked up, catching something in her voice that had him on edge. "About that moment in the music library yesterday, I was wondering,"

 

Never before had the choir director been so grateful for the ringing of his telephone.

 

"I am sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but I believe I must pick this up."

 

She sighed as he reached for the phone. So much for seeing what it was he had wanted to request of her.

 

_Friday, January 31st, 2019_

 

"Students," Mr. Carson announced to the Mixed Choir, holding a stack of papers. "In an effort to fundraise to take a select amount of you to the States this summer, we have a few plans in the works."

 

He then turned to his comrade in arms, letting Elsie do the elaborating.

 

"As you all are already aware of, we do have a Go Fund Me page." She pointed to the whiteboard, which now had a website link written in the top right hand corner. "However, with the help of Mrs. Patmore, we will also be doing a bake-sale next week. We will also be hosting a showcase for all the soloists in April, and will be charging £5 per ticket in another effort to raise money."

 

This is where she silently gave the metaphorical stage back to him, wanting the pleasure of saying I told you so when he realized just how enthusiastic the students would be about their final idea. He looked a little disgruntled at this, but humored her nevertheless - not having much faith in the students' excitement.

 

"Finally, we will also be creating a Youtube Channel for the choir. Although we won't be able to monetize until we have a certain amount of 'subscribers'," And 1,000 was far too many subscribers to obtain within the next few months. "We will be able to use that, as well as a 'Facebook' and 'Instagram' page to get the word out."

 

Everyone sat up, several people looking at Rose in disbelief: she'd been mentioning the social media ideas left and right, but how did she get Mr. Carson of all teachers to agree to it?

 

"You are under no obligation to participate in any of these three social media platforms, or any of the proposed ideas. However, we have been planning to record some of the rehearsals and film some advertisements for future choir events. And, in an effort to keep track of potential requests for the Valentine's songs, I also have these blank forms right here.

 

"All in all, we will need participants for any of these ideas to work. Now, as I said before, you are not required to participate. Nevertheless, I must ask: how many of you would be interested in any of these ideas?"

 

Almost every person in the room raised a hand.

 

The only one who didn't, in fact, was Mr. Carson himself.

 

"Right." The choir director mustered, somewhat shocked at such enthusiasm - much to his colleague's amusement. "In that case,"

 

And, so the true fundraising efforts began.

 

_._

 

It was with a faint smile that Elsie stopped the warm-ups of the  _a cappella_ choir and proceeded to the part of the rehearsal she was looking most forward to.

 

"Although we have already briefly gone over every song we will be singing for the concert, there is an additional piece I'd like us to add." They all looked at her with curiosity, wondering what she could possibly mean.

 

"Are there more lyrics for us to learn, Mrs. Hughes?" Maribel Diaz questioned her hesitantly.

 

"No, there are no more lyrics to learn, Maribel. Rather, it involves choreography."

 

Well, that didn't reassure them in the slightest. And certainly not when Elsie was walking to the windows in the back of the room - opening them up a little bit, in anticipation of what would be coming next. Seeing as how a frigid breeze was now sweeping through the room, the assumption could only be that there would be a lot of movement.

 

Suffice to say, whatever choreography the choir teacher had in mind, it'd impact more people than just those in the choir.

 

_._

 

Miss Thorn, a teacher of high-esteem and great reputation, has always prided herself on her ability to teach English unswervingly for the last fifteen years. Whether she were dealing with fourteen year olds or seventeen year olds, her classes were always purposeful if not enjoyable.

 

Not only that, she had the pleasure of residing right below the second fourth floor. So, even when there was a lull in class - for English did require many silent readings throughout the semester - there was always the beautiful sounds of the various choirs traversing through the floor. Their singing made for pleasant background music, especially when it was the third choir of the day. All the young ladies and gentlemen singing in that particular choir seemed particularly excellent, to the point where Miss Thorn almost forgot which level of education she taught.

 

Now, as someone who teaches at Downton, there has been a little point to staying terribly late at the academy after a school day has officially ended. There were always papers to grade, of course, as well as tests and homework assignments, true. Yet, surely all of that could be accomplished in the space of one's home or at a cafe?

 

Well, that was true. And it was equally true that there hadn't been a particular joy to staying late.

 

That is, until the arrival of one final choir - one that rehearsed only after the school had ended for the day. Once she caught the sounds of that this last fall semester, Madalynn Thorn had discovered an unusually strong desire to stay and grade far later on the campus than she normally would have.

 

That is, until today. Today it sounded like there was a herd of elephants caught in a thunderstorm above her - instead of the respectable choir she'd been eavesdropping on for the last semester.

 

_._

 

"Everyone, I just want you to follow my lead in regards to the motion. We will be returning to rehearsing the songs in just a short while. For now, I want you to rub your hands together like so."

 

Elsie demonstrated, waiting for the rest to follow. And, though it took half a minute for the lot to copy her movements, soon the sixty students crowded in the room began to join in.

 

The sound of a drizzle entered the room, a mist resonating within the room. After a few seconds, Elsie increased her own intensity - patiently watching as the students followed her lead. Gradually, the drizzle began rise in intensity as it grew into a more powerful form of rainfall. It was still a controlled water, but it was no longer a sound that could be considered a mere drizzle.

 

"Now, I'd like all who can snap to start doing so. If you cannot, keep doing what you're doing. Take your time, in any case."

 

The sound of the growing rain turned into a watery pit-patter - a soothing one that could be heard near a window during a storm. And for a beat, it reminded her of a rainy October day - a day where a certain relationship had begun to turn in a new direction. That in turn dropped her mind into the memories that had followed - the Winter Ball, the evening of their first concert, being asked to stay on, their first walks together, amongst other pleasant memories.

 

After a minute of absorbing the memories now flooding her, Elsie redirected her focus back to the sound of her students continuing to create a beautiful rainstorm. And this time, when she wanted people to start patting their legs in lieu of snapping, she silently demonstrated instead.

 

The result was instantaneous - the water was now pouring, rivulets of percussive music building on top of one another as dozens of performers merged the various noises together. It could only be classified as a thunderstorm now, rigorously increasing with each passing minute.

 

"Now," The voice teacher had to raise her voice over the storm brewing in 403. "I want the sopranos and tenors to jump after four beats, followed by the altos, basses and baritones."

 

"Jump?" Lavinia asked over the roaring sounds, bewildered to say the least.

 

"Jump!" She repeated, now handing them all an encouraging grin as they all looked so intrigued by the idea.

 

"Alright, sopranos and tenors, now!" As the two sections jumped and slammed back onto the ground, Elsie gestured to the other three sections and nodded for them to follow suit.

 

They repeated the exercise a few times more - letting the cloudburst of noise seize the second fourth floor. A hurricane of sound entrenched the floor, a cyclone of movement sinking into the wooden doors, flooding every crevice possible. Controlled, watery chaos flooded the area, mixing the tranquility of rain with the intensity of nature.

 

It was almost with a feeling of regret that Elsie had to eventually bring it back down to that initial drizzle.

 

"And now we bring it back to snaps,  _slowly_ ," The students looked just as heartbroken as she felt - now that they had to take the sound back down to normality. The reservoir of pandemonium was starting to evaporate into a spring of serenity. The drizzle sank back into the room after four more measures, and soon their storm faded back into silence.

 

"And that is how we start off our set for the Spring Concert."

 

**_._**

 

Miss Thorn had been mindful of the potential for further raucous, unexplainable noises coming from the choir after the first few minutes.

 

When they came to a glorious halt, the woman merely exhaled in appreciation as she continued to mark her papers. Nevertheless, as she continued marking, the English teacher had surmised there was more to come - that that part of the rehearsal was not yet over. And, upon, hearing clues as to the lyrics - lyrics she had already heard quite a few times this semester - the extraneous sound effects now made sense.

 

"Well, it's certainly original for this institution." Though, she'd still need to have a word with whoever had decided to bring such mayhem into the school. And, seeing as how it was most certainly  _not_ the style of Mr. Carson or that other choir teacher, it had to be the new teacher.

 

"What was her name?" Madalynn looked up from her papers, momentarily distracted. "Mrs. Drews?"

 

_._

 

Charles had been hoping to catch her after she finished their rehearsal - in an effort to converse about anything. His ears having glimpse the sounds of a downpour brewing next door, he couldn't help but be reminded of the previous semester - and everything that had come since.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He'd started to speak once she emerged from 403, the students long gone.

 

"Mr. Carson? Why are you still here?"

 

"I had been wanting to talk about our earlier discussion." Well, he didn't really - not yet, at least - but it was the only thing coming to mind. She nodded, silently thinking the matter and wondering what had changed his tactics in this matter.

 

Well, no matter. Nothing would be accomplished by standing outside the classrooms.

 

"Follow me," She eventually said, before heading off back to the music library back in 402 with no further explanation.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I know I've been putting you off," Charles spoke in a low voice as he followed her back into the room, "That you've been wondering what I was going to request earlier this week."

 

"That is correct." It was a curt voice, one he didn't necessarily find encouraging. "However, I've no intention of pushing you into giving me an answer."

 

Charles weakly smiled at that, appreciating the consideration.

 

The door closed behind them, as she brought him closer to the shelves of sheet music in the back. No reason had been given as to why they were trekking to this part of the second fourth floor, however, in the current moment he didn't necessarily feel that it was necessary to find out.

 

Rather, the only thing that felt necessary at this time was to express his thanks.

 

"Thank you for that." Elsie nodded at his gratitude, content to continue the conversation in silence for now.

 

And for a moment, it was only that silence that controlled their conversation - a heavy, stifling one that kept his hands restless and her lip firmly bitten even as she appeared to be rather calm about the matter. They came to a stop once they were hidden within the shelves for a second time that week, though it didn't seem as though Elsie were looking for any music in particular.

 

No matter, he could still explain himself.

 

"It's just that," Charles began to speak - having been searching for the right words ever since they were interrupted two days ago. "It's just that, I'm afraid I must confess that what I had wanted to request of you in that moment would have indeed been highly inappropriate."

 

"So you said," But her remark wasn't a form of reprimand. Instead, it was a murmur meant to reassure him she wouldn't be leaving at the sound of something so very 'highly inappropriate'. That he could freely speak in her presence.

 

"Right." He agreed, quite glad she remembered - as though she could have forgotten. "Well, you see, I had been overcome with the urge to- to-"

 

He couldn't quite get the words out. Couldn't quite confess what emotions and desires had taken hold of his senses a little over forty-eight hours ago - in exactly the same spot they currently stood.

 

Well, she couldn't let him clearly suffer in such a fashion. Or, at least, she couldn't let her patience dwindle away without even hearing him out.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie quietly began, hoping to bring his gaze up from the wooden floor. "Please, just tell me what you had wanted to request."

 

"But, suppose you are incredibly offended by it?"

 

"Suppose we get struck by a meteor, suppose there's a snowstorm, suppose the building explodes?" Exasperation was beginning to take over. "At least allow me the opportunity to hear you out."

 

Charles continued to watch her, frozen. And when he did eventually speak, it was a mumble so uncharacteristically quiet she couldn't honestly make it out.

 

"Mr. Carson," Fortunately, he was recognizing that now was the time to get to the point.

 

"I had wanted to kiss you."

 

She stood there, nearly gaping in disbelief at the request. With the way he'd gone about the matter, avoiding her whenever she even hinted at wanting to talk about what had occurred, Elsie had begun to conclude that he wanted to do something far more indecorous - such as shamelessly fondle and caress her behind the shelves.

 

Wanting to  _kiss_ her hardly seemed to be worthy of such guilt and avoidance.

 

Then again, this was Charles Carson. A kiss was probably the equivalent of such a  _scandalous_  idea. And, furthermore, because this was Charles Carson, he was already beginning to make a defensive ramble as to why all of the aforementioned concepts were such terrible ideas.

 

"The problem is, would it not be incredibly poor timing to do as such? What with everything still occurring?  _And_ with anyone walking in on such an interaction, let alone the students possibly discovering us and drawing their own inaccurate conclusions on the matter?" He began to get trapped in his thoughts, more problems emerging the further he pondered the matter. "I really am truly quite sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but-"

 

"Elsie."

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

"If you are going to have such feelings towards me, you might as well call me Elsie " She paused, before thoughtfully adding, "So long as we're not in front of the students, of course."

 

"Well then," Charles started up once more, "Elsie," It felt so wonderfully strange to say her name after receiving such permission, but he couldn't afford to dwell on the matter at this time. "You yourself said that - so long as Mrs. Butte wasn't officially gone - we should not engage in any such activities."

 

"I did." He nodded, having already known that.

 

"Right. Which means you couldn't possibly want to - to-"

 

"To be kissed by you?" She asked, keeping her tone as neutral as one could in such a situation.

 

"Right." He repeated himself, feeling a little stupid for not having something more eloquent to say. "Or, at least, even if you did it could not possibly at this time."

 

She continued to stare at him at this, wondering just when this situation took such an impossibly ridiculous path. That had indeed been what she had said less than a week ago. Though, in retrospect, at the very least she could have phrased her thoughts better.

 

"Mr. Carson, if these last few weeks have reminded me of anything," She had to refrain from saying 'Charles' still, not wanting to possibly scare him away. "It is that life can and will force change upon us. That, sometimes what we think is correct is not necessarily what is right."

 

Once, this sort of thought would to reminiscing about Joe and everything that had occurred back then.

 

However, in this moment, she was definitely not thinking of Joe.

 

In any case, the time for pondering was not now. Now was the time to make her intentions and thoughts explicit.

 

"And," Elsie paused, hoping that her meaning was understood. "That there aren't any real guarantees. That you cannot take anything or anyone for granted. And that outright asking is almost always preferable to assuming."

 

She let the words fall into the space, allowing him the chance to respond. It hadn't been an outright yes on her part, but surely it would be also be a clear enough hint for him to understand that this is what she wanted.

 

"I'm not convinced I can be hearing you right." She didn't smile in exasperation at this, nor did she fondly scoff. Rather, the longing that tinted his voice gave her a type of determination she rarely experienced.

 

"You are if you think," Elsie began to respond, resisting the urge to reach out for his hand on the very off-chance he didn't want this. "That I want those implications we once spoke of. And, that I really want you to kiss me."

 

He stilled at the sound of such clear consent, so very thankful that they were hidden away in the stacks of the music library. That there was an incredibly low chance of someone interrupting this moment or walking through one of the doors to request their presence. That-

 

_Enough of this._ Thoughts could be had later. He could already see her start to withdraw - probably in some sort of effort to make this easier, if he truly didn't want to have anything to do with her.

 

And so, instead of trying to verbally reassure her that this truly was what he wanted, Charles settled for something a bit more tangible:

 

He began to close the space between them at the cautious tempo of  _lento_ \- offering her one last chance to back away and call the whole thing off.

 

He really should've known better.

 

Rising to her tiptoes to gently meet him halfway, Elsie's eyes softly closed as their lips finally met. His eyes also shut with a sense of repose as the kiss deepened, the air that had once separated them almost fading away in response. Arms lovingly wrapped themselves around as the pair were soon enveloped in a stunningly comforting warmth. A kind warmth that released weighty tensions and soothed all the strains away.

 

And within that heavenly embrace, tears started to slowly trickle from both individuals- blending together into indistinguishable rivulets. Grief for the students' who had suffered, relief for the fact that they could share this moment, distress for all the pain had occurred within the last several weeks, and comfort for the calming realization that they were not alone.

 

These were not actions brimming with coquettish morals and risqué beliefs - akin to obscene type that Mr. Carson had originally been so fearful of and that Mrs. Hughes had cautioned them away from.

 

Rather, this was a scene of respective laments softly mixing into a mutual tenderness. This was a soothing moment of understanding that illustrated the desires of their hearts. And this was a gratifying, comforting interaction. One that revealed just how willing they now were when it came to sharing their load - in every sense of the word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it lovely, to paraphrase one of my other favorite TV shows, when you find that person who connects you to the world - in any capacity? For me, it's usually my family and friends who remind me of what's important when it comes to life. However, receiving such support from all of you is just as powerful and amazing.
> 
> Therefore, I want to wish you all a wonderful Valentine's Day week, and I hope you all are able to spend time with your loved ones. Until the next update - which should arrive much sooner!


	14. Emails and Intuitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before Anything Else: Go check out "Cloudbursts and Unexpected Queries" -- it may sound a bit dry, but trust me when I say it's got a Valentine's surprise in it as well as other lovely things :)
> 
> General Author's Note: It's not as long as a chapter as I'd prefer, but I did want to get something out before the week ended. Regardless of how or if you're celebrating today, I hope you've been having a good time!
> 
> Disclaimer that I meant to make much earlier: The schools brought up are purely fictional. The architect for Downton is based off of a former school of mine, yes. However, all other buildings (as well as teachers, conductors, choir directors, authority figures, etc.) are purely fictional. Any resemblance to real life people is coincidental.

 

_**Dear Charles,** _

 

_**Is everything alright at Downton? Only I'm a little concerned because you never responded to my previous email. And, seeing how, not only I have always known you to be a rather prompt responder, it is has been a week since we last spoke, I do believe concern is in order.** _

_**I look forward to your next response and to meeting again soon. Let me know when you're available.** _

 

_**Fondly,** _

_**Alice Neal** _

 

And, that wasn't the only irritation awaiting him in his inbox.

 

_**Dear Mr. Carson,** _

 

_**I am afraid that I am experiencing far more issues with recovering than I anticipated. I will be sending for a doctor's note as soon as I can obtain one, in order to ensure your trust in the situation. As of now, I will be out for at least a few more days if not the end of the week.** _

 

_**Sincerely,** _

_**Emma Butte** _

 

As relieved as he was to not have to deal with his soon-to-be-former colleague just yet, he was in no mood to tolerate what was almost entirely a lie.

 

It was with a sigh that Charles begrudgingly clicked the "Reply" button on-screen. Alice's would be first, seeing as how he knew she'd be emailing again today if he didn't respond. Emma's email, on the other hand, didn't strike him as one that was anticipating an immediate reply.

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

The keys were struck with unforgiving force as his mind fought to come up with something that cordial but candid.

 

"What did that keyboard do to deserve such treatment?" Elsie asked from her desk on the other side of the room. He settled for a harrumph instead of an official response - only garnering a chortle for his troubles.

 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

 

Charles thought it over a moment, uncertain. Elsie wouldn't be able to help with Emma - except to remind him to be relieved that she'd soon be leaving Downton. With Alice, on the other hand… Well, he wasn't entirely sure.

 

"Do you have any advice for dealing with unpleasant matters?"

 

"If such unpleasant matters involve corresponding with women named Alice or Emma," She knowingly spoke up, obtaining not only a wide-eyed expression but also a double take. "I have a few suggestions."

 

Charles couldn't help but smile appreciatively, very grateful he didn't have to explain everything.

 

"They do indeed." He maneuvered his swivel chair back a few inches, so as to see her better from across the room and truly converse. Though, there hadn't been a need for that - she was already rising out of her chair and walking over to look at these emails herself. "So, what do you suggest?"

 

"Firstly, you can always inform Alice that Mrs. Butte has yet to make an official decision - which is why you have refrained from responding." Now, why hadn't he thought of that? "Secondly, if she's insisting on meeting then I could come along and turn it into a choir discussion amongst colleagues."

 

Now Charles was beginning to realize just how lucky he was that Elsie Hughes was in his life.

 

"Do you mean that?" The choir director asked, somewhat awestruck. Had the situation been reversed, he honestly wouldn't know how he'd react or if such an idea would have come to mind.

 

"Why would I suggest something I wouldn't do?"

 

Oh, how he loved her dry sense of humour. And her very existence.

 

"That means more to me than I could possibly say." She shook off the compliment, looking on at the second email in question.

 

"Now, when it comes to Mrs. Butte, may I try my hand at a draft?"

 

"Go right ahead," Charles said gesturing to the computer. And, if her composing a draft meant accidentally brushing up against him several times in the process, well, it was all in the name of helping the choirs.

 

_._

 

_**Dear Mrs. Butte,** _

 

_**We at the choir department are quite sorry to hear of your unfortunate delay. Do not worry about procuring a doctor's note - focus solely on recovering. And do let us know when you are able to secure employment. You are, of course, more than welcome to consider The Center's offer. However, no offense will be taken whichever path you next take.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Mr. Carson** _

 

She glanced down at her phone's message, scoffing in disbelief.

 

"'No offense will be taken whichever path you next take'? How kind."

 

Charles' silly attempt at placation didn't really matter either way; Emma had already arrived at her destination. Having now approached the entrance of a certain grey-brick building that she'd never before dared to enter, the woman looked at the institution with almost a sense of vindication.

 

Standing at an impressive five stories, the grey boxy structure gleamed with a type of pride she never found at Downton. The windows gave an austere presence to the building, the overall appearance accentuating the frigid and unforgivingly ruthless reputation that the institution had spent decades crafting:

 

Carlisle Institute.

 

Once a building she never cared to set eyes on, now an institution she took great delight in visiting.

 

Honestly, had she encountered such an academy eleven years prior, Downton's choirs would never have stood a chance. Though frankly, after the treatment she received these last two weeks - and by someone who supposedly claimed to be her friend for the last decade, no less - it made perfect sense as to why she stood here in this moment.

 

After all, instinct brought her here today. Instinct guided her steps whilst intuition had encouraged her to call up an old friend who worked at this fine institution. And with those feelings there came a surge of unabashed glee that accompanied her steps the closer she got to the entrance. A sense of fulfillment at the thought that she'd finally right the wrongs of the last few months.

 

It was time to offer her services to their rival school. And, once she proved herself useful to them, Emma was more than certain that they'd take her on.

 

So, now, even if Ms. Hughes wasn't to be cast out by the end of this semester, it didn't matter. She'd long since made up her mind that Ms. Hughes leaving would hardly make up for this semester. Having been given such treatment - being replaced by that woman, having been made a fool of by Mrs. Levinson, putting up with such horrid singing for so many years, and  _still_  not being trusted by Charles after all these years to do her job - Emma felt she more than deserved to take this next step.

 

"Emma?" Phoebe Miller, her long time friend and the very person she'd be so eager to see, was waiting for her at the entrance. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

 

"So am I," She easily confessed, following her friend into the looming entrance doors. "You won't believe what I've had to endure."

 

"Tell me  _all_ about it." The woman encouragingly responded, quite curious as to why Emma had had a change in heart about her employment after all these years.

 

_._

 

"Students," Elsie began the announcements today, looking across the sea of singers to gage interest. "As you may have noticed, there are several papers on the piano."

 

All of them had indeed noticed this, even if they didn't inquire just yet.

 

"These are the various forms for each fundraising project." The choir teacher then began to gesture to each individual set of papers, fighting back a smile at the rising enthusiasm. "This is for signing up to be in the solo showcase, this is for helping with the bake-sale next week, these are the forms for the Valentine song requests, and this is the sign-up for helping with the social media pages."

 

Practically bouncing in their seats like toddlers, she continued to ignore their excitement - if only so as to keep the momentum going.

 

"Now, I would prefer it if you all would be willing to take the papers you're interested in or sign-up for to help with the events by the end of class. And, yes, you can sign up for multiple opportunities or grab multiple song requests. You are also under no obligation to participate in any of these fundraising efforts." She looked at the raised hand, "Yes, Anna?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, are there online version of the Valentine's song request forms?"

 

"Not at this moment, no. However, I am more than happy to create an online form as well." Anna nodded appreciatively at this, dropping her hand with ease.

 

"Are there any more questions? Yes, William?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, will we be recording songs today? If we're participating in the Valentine's requests, that is."

 

"We will be rehearsing the songs today and recording our selections tomorrow." Seeing the unspoken questions still buzzing around the room, she continued. "The plan is to have one excellent video for each song, and then to film individual students give an introduction clip for specific requests."

 

William nodded, lowering his hand.

 

"Any other questions?" This time, much to nobody's surprise, it was Rose who energetically voiced the question many were thinking.

 

"And when will we have the opportunity to 'sign up'?" Sensing Mr. Carson's disapproval at the casual manner of which she spoke, the soprano quickly added a polite, "Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_._

 

When several students - of all ages and distinctions - began to chatter wildly away about some sort of song request for Valentine's Day, Violet Crawley hardly paid them half a mind.

 

However, when one of the pupils was brazen enough to ask if  _she_  would be paying for and sending in a song request - well, let's just say that there was a lesson taught within the halls of Downton. With only a minute raising of the eyebrow and a contortion of facial features, Violet was easily able to convey how likely  _that_ would be.

 

Besides, she'd already sent in her request. Having received the list of songs from Mrs. Hughes the moment the woman had composed it, Violet Crawley had long since contributed to the choir.

 

_._

 

" _Dashing away with the smoothing iron,"_

 

He heard faint whispers of what had to be a hallucination coming from 403.

 

_She stole my heart away!"_

 

It wasn't possible for Elsie to be resurrecting his favorite  _a cappella_ song. And there was no reason for the choir to be singing it.

 

Or, at least, there was no reason when they were already going to be performing "In My Life".

 

"' _Twas on a Sunday morning,"_

 

Of course, Charles hadn't given himself a chance to look over just which songs all of the choirs would be performing - interestingly enough, he had been all too content to leave the details of that specific fundraising event to his colleague. He would handle the administrative paperwork, he would organize several aspects behind every other project - between him and Elsie, the bake-sale would be far more of a success under his management - but he did not touch the song selections for this particular effort.

 

" _And there I saw my darling,"_

 

Still.

 

It was apparently no hallucination.

 

" _She looked so neat and charming"_

 

Charles approached the door to the room, still shellshocked by the sound emanating from the room.

 

" _In every high degree!"_

 

And it was almost as though he was being transported back to September, back when life had been far simpler. Which was terribly ironic, seeing as how he thought Elsie Hughes' arrival to the choir department was the most chaotic change he could have ever experienced at Downton. Honestly, in practically a fortnight she'd already added a choir to the program, changed song selections, and redirected his overall perspective in an entirely different direction.

 

" _She looked so neat and nimble-o_

_A-wearing of her linen oh,"_

 

He could only imagine the enriching changes she'd continue to bring.

 

_._

 

"My, my," William froze at the sound of her off-hand remark echoing down the stairwell. He hadn't meant to meander out of the building, but the outside world had stolen his focus. And now he was going to be pay for being distracted by awkwardly crossing paths with his two favorite teachers. "Isn't it beautiful?"

 

"If you are referring to the outbreak of snow that has been building in intensity for the last hour, I am not sure I can classify such incessant weather as 'beautiful'." William almost snorted at the indignant retort. Thankfully, even if he had snorted, Mrs. Hughes' bubbling laughter reverberating through the stairwell would have been loud enough to mask the noise.

 

"I hardly think this flurry is deserving of such a harsh description, Mr. Carson. Especially since it's a perfectly acceptable reason to return upstairs and delay in leaving the building just yet."

 

With their footsteps still descending closer and closer, William had no time to decode just what  _that_ meant. He only knew that there was only time to silently move towards the nearest floor and quickly slip out of the stairwell before the three of them bumped into each other.

 

In short, all William had time for was a run.

 

_._

 

"Did you hear something?" Mrs. Hughes asked, her ears detecting the sound of nervous footsteps scurrying away. However, it seemed her previous coy words had stunned Mr. Carson to the point where he could only blankly look at her.

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes - what did you say?"

 

She looked past him and down the stairs, not catching sight of anyone on the steps.

 

"Never you mind, Mr. Carson." Whoever it was, they were long gone, "Never you mind."

 

However, the fleeting presence of those footsteps had made an unspoken choice for the couple: feeling almost certain that there had been someone on the stairs, Elsie decided now was not the time to be overly affectionate in any regard.

 

Still, she couldn't just go back to pretending as though they didn't even know each other.

 

"I suppose you'll want to make sure I survive the journey back home." It was spoken with a trace of cheekiness, a tease coloring her words.

 

But, her eyes spoke of the sincerity she couldn't let slip into her tone.

 

"Of course," His hand reached out to briefly grasp hers, "How could you possibly expect anything else?"

 

_._

 

It was at the end of the day when she had finally had a chance to check her email. Having had to handle hundreds of eager choristers from dawn till dusk, she hadn't necessarily been in the mood to do administrative work - not that she normally did, mind.

 

But, it was either that or chat with her so-called boss about their competition preparations. Which was something she had even less motivation to partake in at this time.

 

Luckily, it looked like she had a legitimate excuse to delay both administrative tasks  _and_ that long-winded chat.

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

_**My apologies for the delay in response - our teacher who will soon be departing, Mrs. Butte, has recently become injured. Consequently, we have refrained from inquiring about** _ _**whether or not she will be accepting your offer until she has recovered. Nevertheless, I should be able to notify you about that decision soon.** _

_**Now, in regards to meeting up, I believe I will be available to meet sometime later this February. Though, I was also wondering if a colleague could join us in this encounter as well? They have been very fascinated to meet you, especially upon hearing of your history on the stage and our past performances.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles** _

 

Well, whoever this colleague of Charles was, he certainly knew what he was talking about. After all, Alice had quite the career as a soprano back in her prime - having been known as the Lark of Song throughout most of her time on the stage. Moreover, if Charles was bringing her up to his colleagues, then perhaps his feelings have changed in a more suitable direction.

 

She knew he'd been hurt by her choosing a career over love all those years ago, but it worked out splendidly. They were still in relative distance to one another, she knew him to still be madly infatuated with her underneath all of that professionalism, and never did another woman cross his path to take him away from her. They still met on an almost yearly basis - outside of the spring competitions, that is. And, other than his longtime colleague suddenly having to leave, there shouldn't be any changes in anything.

 

"Other than that new colleague." She murmured to herself, "However, I doubt he'll be anything other than a fanboy, from the sounds of it."

 

Which was never a problem for her. Admiration from all accounts was something she strove to always accept. It never helped to hurt someone's feelings, and certainly not when they were being complimentary.

 

Little did Alice know, that colleague of Charles was not a fanboy of her.

 

Not in the slightest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those concerned about Alice's appearance, I'd just like to say that - even though there will be drama - we have gotten through the worse of it. So, even though she'll be making at least two more appearances, she's not stepping in for Mrs. Butte.
> 
> On a different note, what do we think of occasionally having a week's worth of writing in one chapter? Like, going through a whole school week within one chapter instead of focusing on one-two days at a time. It would take slightly longer to get the updates out (like 3-4 days instead of 2-3), though I wouldn't do this for every chapter.
> 
> Either way, let me know your thoughts!


	15. Dizzying Dates and Sweet Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spy with my little eye, a lengthier chapter that includes a little over a week's worth of progression! Thank you all once again for your patience - as always, it's very much appreciated. Here is the official week of Valentine's, and a taste of their fundraising efforts!
> 
> Also, for those who are intrigued about the meeting between Alice, Charles, and Elsie, that is going to be occurring in a future chapter - most likely the next one, but I make no promises just yet. This chapter is all about fundraising, fluff, and just having a bit of fun :)
> 
> And finally, shoutout to a certain fandom of interest ;D Fans of POI will be sure to recognize a particular shoutout to my OTP from that particular fandom :)

 

It was true that, for the most part, the choirs had recovered from the horrid mistreatment of the previous weeks. It was also true that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes would never allow Mrs. Butte to come near the choirs - not if they could help it.

 

However, it was just as accurate that they still felt incredibly guilty about the matter. That, even with the changes and the new directions being taken, the effect of her appalling actions was not something that would magically disappear.

 

_._

 

_**Thursday, the 7th of February, 2019** _

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He had been wondering this for quite some time, "Did Mrs. Butte ever act out towards you?"

 

"I wouldn't necessarily have described it as 'acting out'. Still, I suppose Mrs. Butte did have a few moments that could be deemed unprofessional in front of me," Mr. Carson stiffened at this, not liking the sound of that. "So I can only guess at what she had been saying to the students when we weren't around."

 

"I can only imagine." Yes, those who had stepped forth had described it to him. But, it had not been word for word, and Charles suspected many of the students refrained from telling him everything.

 

"I guess I still can't believe I didn't put a stop to that drama in the first place." He looked up at this, confused. "I had assumed that she was feeling frustrated with the fact that I was her substitute for the last semester - which would make anyone feel out of sorts. However, as Beryl so kindly reminded me last week, her behavior had gone past what should have been tolerated. Still, I, being so stupid as to assume that she wouldn't act this way towards the students -" She interrupted herself, having begun to shake with a mixture anger and frustration and guilt.

 

"It's I who allowed her to work in this department for so long." Charles couldn't help but remark, berating himself for his own foolishness. "It's I who thought I had the right to put on airs in regards to what I knew about her."

 

This deflated Elsie's anger, dampening her guilt over the situation. This brought her to swipe aside her tension once more, turning to him.

 

"Charles," He looked up at this assertive, acerbic tone - thrown off-balance by the use of his Christian name. "This is not something you would have never noticed. This is something that had to have changed recently."

 

"But, how could you possibly know that? You've only been here for a semester."

 

She stared at him, willing the decades spent working with various musicians to show in her eyes. The memories, the lessons, the moments spent truly understanding the plethora of performers she's had to encounter - she tries to reflect all of that in this moment.

 

When that doesn't help, she settles for verbal reassurances.

 

"Didn't we already agree that you are far from foolish, Charles Carson?" She made to grab his hand, hoping to have his undivided attention in this moment. "Believe me when I say you would have realized what was going on if it had occurred earlier."

 

He drank in her words, not really willing to fully believe them.

 

But, he did recognize that she was not going to let him sink further into guilt.

 

"If I'm not allowed to be foolish," The man began, coaxing a certain look of exasperation from her before he even finished his remark. "Then, Elsie Hughes, you're not allowed to be stupid."

 

"Is that so?"

 

"It is indeed."

 

She huffed, rather frustrated and still vaguely amused by such a remark.

 

"Well then," The woman lightly remarked. "If not foolish, what description will suffice? Hopelessly naive?"

 

"Stubborn." She let out a laugh at this, appreciative of the honesty. "Extraordinarily brilliant and wonderfully stubborn. And quite stunning, especially when being extraordinarily brilliant and wonderfully stubborn."

 

A blush appeared at this, as Elsie looked away.

 

"That's a few times now you've made me blush,  _Mr. Carson._ " She spoke quietly, letting her accent take over - enjoying the fact that he was now showing a hint of red himself. "Please refrain from doing in the future."

 

Well, two could play at that game.

 

"Or what, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She leaned over in her chair, gesturing for him to lean in closer. He did as requested, intrigued by what she'd have to say.

 

The bell rang, signalling the end of the final lunch period and nearly masking her words in the process.

 

"Or else I won't be held responsible for my actions."

 

And with a quick peck on the lips, she left him sitting there - leaving the room to retrieve her binder.

 

So tickled was she by the tease that when she came back with just a minute to spare, Elsie was unable to resist a teasing grin. Charles, on the other hand, was only able to stare. He himself was having a hard time thinking about anything other than the fact that retaliation would be in order for such a surprise attack.

 

Naturally, it'd have to be off-campus in order for it to properly work. Music libraries only worked for so long, and -

 

_Wait a moment._

 

A thought was beginning to come to mind. A plan that was just as sweet and playful as the woman it was directed towards.

 

Who, much to his pleasure, was quite oblivious.

 

_._

 

Septimus was sat in the corner of the classroom, having been trying to craft the perfect post to start officially advertising for the choir. Although Edith had long since reassured him that any of his writing would be fantastic, he was of another opinion.

 

To the point where, for the first time in two years, he was totally drawing a blank as to what to say.

 

_._

 

"Miss O'Brien? What brings you here?"

 

She had been hoping to avoid crossing paths with this specific Mrs. Crawley.

 

"I was just-" However, Violet was already interrupting her.

 

"Oh, I do hope you aren't waiting for Cora,"

 

"As as a matter of fact-" Violet's smile tightened, a hint of thinly veiled irritation flashing in her eyes briefly as she spoke curtly once more.

 

"Because she is rather unavailable at the moment."

 

Sarah paused at the tone, having had the intention of stirring the pot as much as she could by dropping by to chat with Cora. The alto would have the excuse of wanting to drop by after not have done so in days, which would allow her to stay long enough to cause a little trouble for the choirs in the process.

 

However, it looked like Violet could see right through that. And didn't approve one bit.

 

"I see."

 

"Do you now?" The administrator inquired, her assertive making it clear it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else.

 

"I do, Mrs. Crawley." She's got more bite than she'd like, but her patience has just been tested and Sarah O'Brien doesn't care for that.

 

Still, Violet Crawley is clearly the one calling the shots in this regard. And, so, it's with a thin smile that the alto retreated out of the administrators area and headed towards the cafeteria.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Not typically being one to lurk around the campus after the school day had ended, Mary was surprised to note that she had stayed late enough to overhear her teachers as they made their departure for the day. Of course, she did have a valid reason: she had been rehearsing her solo. "I do hope you've been able to give our solo dilemma some more thought."

 

The first soprano withdrew into herself, not liking the sound of that and now unable to let the conversation slip away. She put a stop to her rehearsal, getting up and silently opening the practice room door. It'd be open just enough to catch the conversation without giving her presence away.

 

"To be honest, I completely forgot about the matter, Mr. Carson." Well, that didn't sound like the Mrs. Hughes that Mary had been observing for the last five-and-a-half months. "By when did you need a song selected?"

 

He came to a halt, causing Mary to remain completely still. Now would hardly be the time to accidentally draw attention to herself, not when they were only a few meters away from the exit.

 

"The sooner the better." Was that a trace of concern in his voice? "Preferably by the 25th, so I can begin rehearsing the accompaniment long before the showcase."

 

Seeing as how the solo showcase was still a few months away, and Mr. Carson wasn't supposed to play the accompaniment for any of the singers, the first soprano was getting the feeling that they were not talking about a student's solo.

 

"It should definitely not take that much time to decide." Mrs. Hughes firmly remarked.

 

"Of that I have no doubt." Mary heard the sounds of fondness all the way from her practice room, even more intrigued now. "Were you debating between any selections in particular?"

 

"Nothing in particular, no. So long as it interesting enough to hold a teenager's attention for a few minutes, I should be fine."

 

"Mrs. Hughes," There was a resolution in his voice that confused Mary, if only because she had never witnessed such an assured tone within Mr. Carson. "Anything you perform will be of great interest. And, surely, with such a performance as the 'Best of Downton', you will put a little more effort into selecting a worthy piece?"

 

_Mrs. Hughes will be performing?_

 

"Yes, well, forgive me if I've no interest in performing 'Queen of the Night'." He chuckled at this, the sound as foreign to Mary as the level of playfulness in the woman's words. Mrs. Hughes could tease, Mr. Carson could laugh, but neither ever did those actions to quite that extent - at least, not in Mary's presence.

 

"I take it that was to be Mrs. Butte's aria of choice?" Was her choir director now being facetious? And about a member of the staff who - according to Mama - was on her way out?

 

"It was." She confessed, giving rather an acerbic touch to those two words. "An impressive aria, if not a little overdone."

 

"Your selection will be more tasteful in regards to its popularity, I presume?"

 

_Is Mr. Carson flirting? With Mrs. Hughes?... Via Mozart's Magic Flute?_

 

"You presume correctly," She retorted archly. "I'll be sure to select one full of an 'enriching' taste."

 

Suspiciously enough, that sounded just as flirtatious.

 

"Of course. And, shall I be privy to the selection before or after Mrs. Patmore?"

 

Mary put a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle any laughter before it had a chance to escape - she'd never seen this side of them. Still, by nearly laughing, she almost missed the final part of the conversation.

 

"Well, Mr. Carson," The choir teacher whispered in an almost alluring fashion as an inviting, shimmering tease embroidered itself within her accent. "I suppose that all depends on you."

 

Now  _that_  and the resounding silence gave Mary the strongest desire to peek out of the practice room to glimpse at the scene occurring within the hallway. For there was no way that Mrs. Hughes was speaking to Mr. Carson in such a manner if they were only colleagues. Nor was it at all possible for Mr. Carson to oblivious to her intriguing attitude - not now of all times.

 

And if she was going to be mentally scarred by being in earshot of such a conversation, she might as well witness something.

 

"Does it indeed?" It felt almost wrong to hear her favorite music teacher speak in quite that fashion. The sensation was the equivalent of walking in on her parents as they explicitly flirted with one another and, worse, engaged in a more physical intimacy.

 

However, worst of all was the realization that - if her two teachers were heading down this risqué path in her presence - she'd still have to look them both in the eyes whenever she saw them.

 

Luckily for Mary, she was saved any further mortifying thoughts:

 

Before the conversation could continue, the pair was interrupted by a sneeze.

 

"Mr. Carson, are you alright?" By the sounds of it, he was already shaking off the woman's concern.

 

"Quite alright, Mrs. Hughes. It's just a bit dustier than I'd like it to be today."

 

"If you say so," She dryly responded, appearing to let the matter go for now. "Well, dust or no, I think now's as good a time as any to call it a day."

 

"If that's what you feel is best." Though, judging from the relief in his voice, Mr. Carson wasn't going to fight the decision. It seemed he was beginning to realize the slippery slope their coquettish banter was taking them.

 

"It is."

 

There was a pause, one in which Mary couldn't tell what was happening in the hallway. But, soon enough, she heard their footsteps pick up once again and the door to one of the stairwells open.

 

Only once the pair left the hallway did Mary feel it was perfectly acceptable to release a sigh of sigh. And, of course, think the matter deeply over for at least a few minutes. Overhearing that conversation certainly gave her plenty to ponder about, make no mistake about that. However, even though she did need several minutes to go over the interaction, it was surprising how easily her opinion on the conversation formed.

 

_Alright._  Whatever was transpiring between the two, they had her approval.

 

For, as bizarre as it was to think of her teachers having lives outside of teaching, she did want them to be happy. Or, rather, she wanted them to at least be happy enough to continue teaching at an effective level. Especially Mr. Carson - his happiness she never really observed in all the years she'd known him. To now hear him so enamored, in his own way - well, she couldn't really stop that. And, nor did she want to stop it, to be quite candid.

 

Now, with all of these thoughts also came inspiration. An inspiration to not only hint at her approval, but also help release that guilt they both obviously still carried over everything with Mrs. Butte.

 

In any case, this idea did require her to send a text out to Anna.

 

Now, perhaps the idea she had in mind seemed a little more suited to Sybil's kindness or possibly even Edith's ability to connect with others. However, it was in fact Mary's idea and she had every intention of being the Crawley sister who carried it out.

 

_**Monday, the 11th of February, 2019** _

 

"Surely you're going to need a hand with those forms?" Beryl made the pithy remark as she accompanied Elsie into the building. "I know many students either want a live song or want to give a live song request."

 

"You're already helping with the bake-sale, Beryl,"

 

"Which will be a cakewalk, as you well know." Elsie rolled her eyes at this, a faint smile appearing even as she raised an eyebrow.

 

"It  _might_ be a cakewalk - but we won't know until Thursday."

 

"Yes, well, speaking of cakewalks - have you chosen something for the 'Best of Downton' yet?"

 

"Not you, too! Mr. Carson was only just asking me about the matter last week."

 

"And what did you tell him?"

 

"The same thing that I'm telling you: I haven't had a chance to think it over."

 

"Is it that you haven't had a chance or that you're avoiding the chance?" Now on the receiving end of a glare, Beryl fearlessly continued. "I will be dropping by sometime before Thursday to help out with the forms  _and_ help select a song."

 

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary-"

 

"That's nice." She was now shoo-ing her friend towards the second fourth floor, "I'll still be dropping by."

 

_._

 

"I didn't know CJ was in the choir!" They were all chattering away, still waiting for Mr. Thompson to arrive and educate them on today's literature lesson.

 

"Yeah, but which choir do you suppose she's in?" Septimus smiled softly to himself, pleased that he had been able to come up with something worthy after all.

 

Not only that, he was rather tickled by the fact that they still thought CJ was a young woman.

 

See, when students had first begun to talk of the infamous writer, he'd been frozen with the fear of being found out. Any conversation that contained the initials C and J had been shifted to a different subject almost on the spot - that's how nervous he had been. However, when a year had past and nobody had revealed or realized his secret, he grew in confidence - really beginning to have at it with the witticisms and advice.

 

"I dunno, maybe the Advance Choir. She's been around for two years, so she can't be in Beginner's." As much as the bass wanted to be in the Concert Choir, he'd only just gotten started this last fall semester. Still, he was somewhat touched by the idea that people believed he belonged in the most prestigious of the choirs.

 

"Well, I got my parents to donate to the choirs thanks to her," One of the girls proclaimed with a sense of pride. "So, there's that."

 

Septimus really had to stop eavesdropping if he didn't want a smug grin to overtake his face.

 

_._

 

It was with a start that Charles realized that Emma had refrained from emailing him with any updates.

 

However, as curious as he was in the moment, his overall gratitude far outweighed it. If she was unintentionally giving them a break during one of the busiest weeks of the semester, so be it.

 

_._

 

Beryl Patmore did not receive after school visitors.

 

And she certainly did not ever receive any visitors in the form of Anna Smith and Mary Crawley.

 

"Mrs. Patmore?" The blond singer began the conversation not quite timidly, but not quite confidently.

 

"Anna? Mary? What can I do for you?"

 

"Well, you see, we had wanted to put something together for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, to show how much their work is appreciated." Beryl nodded, pleased that the students were inclined to do something in appreciation of their teachers.

 

"What did you have in mind?"

 

_._

 

_**Tuesday, the 12th of February, 2019** _

 

"This is the last introduction you have to do for today, Mary, and may I say thank you so much for volunteering." Mr. Carson intoned, looking at the PDF now on the computer. After Anna's suggestion of creating an online form, Mrs. Hughes was able to put together a PDF that they were able to share on all of their social media - obtaining even more video requests than anticipated.

 

The soprano looked over her teacher's shoulder, studying the information on the screen carefully and memorizing the message. It was a simple request, easier than some of the others she'd had to memorize. Still, that didn't make it any less heartfelt.

 

"Ready, Mrs. Hughes?" She asked, turning back to the woman. Her teacher nodded, preparing once more to steady her phone's camera.

 

Mary took a step back over to the decorated portion of the whiteboard, looking briefly down before raising her gaze and bringing one last warm smile to her face.

 

"From Harold Finch to John Reese. Harold and the choirs of Downton Abbey wish you a Happy Valentine's Day, and hope you enjoy 'It Had To Be You'."

 

It was simple, warm, and beautifully spoken. The choir teacher stopped recording before giving Mary a matching smile - rather pleased they were able to do this for people.

 

"As Mr. Carson has already said, thank you for your help with this." The soprano bowed her head at the gratitude, murmuring a cordial response as she began to take her leave. Truly, even though they'd been working together for now a few weeks, hearing praise from Elsie Hughes still took some getting used to.

 

"So," Elsie began once the soprano left. "How many are left for the others?"

 

"Of the PDFs? More than I can currently count - we'll still have a fair amount to record today and tomorrow." She chuckled, pleased to hear that this effort really was literally paying off. "Of the hard copies? There's not that many left."

 

The woman nodded once again, beginning to put her phone away for the moment.

 

"Actually," Charles started, once he caught sight of this action. "I was thinking we could do one more hard copy request before we take a break."

 

"Are you sure?" Elsie asked, "As you well know, Mary was the last student from fifth period."

 

'Quite sure," He seriously spoke, "But, don't worry; I'm more than capable of doing the recording."

 

"If you're sure." But, she was already preparing her phone to film once more.

 

Charles glanced at the stack of papers, hardly needing to reference the latest request by this point as he walked over to the designated spot.

 

"Ready whenever you are, Mrs. Hughes." She held up her phone, turning on the video features.

 

"We're recording," Elsie informed him, keeping her hands steady as she watched him take a moment to compose himself.

 

Charles straightened up after a few seconds, taking a few more seconds to prepare himself.

 

"From Charles Carson to Elsie Hughes," She barely held back from inhaling sharply at this, as he was now looking directly at her - only speaking to her. "As a special thanks for everything you have done with the choirs, I sincerely hope you enjoy our version of 'Dashing Away With the Smoothing Iron, She Stole My Heart Away'."

 

She almost forgot to stop recording, taken aback by the loving tone and sweet action he now bestowed on her. And when he finally dared to give her a chaste kiss, once she did turn off the phone, one could say that even a feather could have knocked her over in that moment.

 

_._

 

"What about a duet?" Beryl had decided to drop by the choir room during after school - having every intention of following through on her earlier promise to help the choirs and insert her opinion. "I don't think there's any rule that says it's got to be a solo."

 

"And what would you suggest, Bery- Mrs. Patmore?" Elsie really had to work on that habit when she was in front of other colleagues.

 

"How about 'It Couldn't Please Me More'?" Came the cheeky response, causing her friend to facepalm at the thought.

 

"I'm afraid that doesn't ring much of a bell for me." Charles intoned all the way from his desk - having decided to work on grading for the time being.

 

"Let's keep it that way." "You mean you've never seen  _Cabaret_?"

 

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Mrs. Hughes?" He chose to focus on that, purposefully avoiding Beryl's question.

 

"Well, unless you'd like to suggest to the school that we are secretly in love with one another, it's best to leave that alone."

 

"Not that it'd be much of a secret."

 

"Something you'd care to share with the rest of us, Mrs. Patmore?"

 

"Oh, nothing, nothing! How about 'Shall We Dance'?" Elsie shook her head firmly.

 

"Surely, it'd be simpler for me to sing a solo instead?"

 

"But, not nearly as entertaining. How about 'Where or When'?"

 

"Perhaps we should refrain from musical theatre," Charles interjected, sensing that to indulge in such a genre would probably drive both him and Elsie up a wall.

 

"Alright, how about 'O Soave-"

 

"Not only do I suspect that would be a reach for Mr. Carson's range, I'm just as sure that the solution is simple: I can easily sing a solo."

 

"I agree with Mrs. Hughes, that seems to be for the best." Beryl rolled her eyes, fixing them both with a stare. After a minute, she begrudgingly conceded the duet idea - deciding to switch tracks.

 

"So, what solos did you have in mind?"

 

"I had been considering 'En Prière' by Fauré, or Schubert's 'An Die Musik'." Charles looked at her curiously, knowing both pieces rather well and trying to imagine how that'd sound.

 

"Both are lovely, but I honestly think they'd be a little lacking for you." The band director looked at her in a thoughtful manner, "Why not 'Notre Amour'? That was always you were  _always_ amazing at, especially with that high-"

 

"No," Elsie was not going to yield on this matter. "No love songs or any such implications. Not while Mrs. Butte is technically a member of the staff."

 

"Fine," Though Beryl seemed a rather put out by the declaration. "I still think you're missing out on a chance to show why you're to be in the 'Best of Downton'. But, if you insist."

 

"I'll have you know," Elsie began to elaborate that it's not only romantic songs that have the intense high notes, but Charles was temporarily lost to the conversation. He himself was distracted with the idea of witnessing her perform 'Notre Amour' in its full glory - a scene that certainly stole his heart and thoughts away in a heartbeat.

 

"Aren't I right, Mr. Carson?" Luckily for the man, he knew the appropriate response was to agree with Elsie on the matter - regardless of what he was agreeing to.

 

"Fine. So," Beryl appeared to not accept her friend's argument, "You say love songs aren't the only one with the fantastic ranges. Prove it."

 

"And just how am I to do that, Mrs. Patmore?"

 

"Well, Mrs. Hughes, you could just go over to that elaborate music library of yours and find one solo that proves your point." Smugness began to grasp her tone. "I'll even give you five minutes to do just that."

 

"A time limit? Surely, you're not being serious." Beryl chuckled at this, ignoring the disbelief.

 

"Surely the great Elsie Hughes is able to come up with at least  _one_ song in that library? Oh, and now you've only got four minutes and forty-five seconds to prove me wrong." The choir teacher was already getting up out of her chair, hurriedly approaching the sheets of music.

 

"How about- no, nevermind, that's a love song." Beryl snorted to herself.

 

"Oh, and if you can't find anything, I'm sure 'Notre Amour' would be deemed entirely acceptable. It's not as though they'd be able to translate the French as quickly as you'd be singing it." She glanced at Mr. Carson, unable to resist adding that, "I'm sure Mr. Carson would also find it quite acceptable!"

 

"Beryl Patmore, you are proving to be quite the distraction!" Now the woman was flat-out chortling, finding this to be the best entertainment she's had all week.

 

"But aren't I right, Mr. Carson? Wouldn't 'Notre Amour' be simply divine to listen to?" With such a cheeky tone, he found himself unable to agree with the truth of the matter. However, now that it had been repeatedly brought up, it truly was becoming more and more appealing.

 

Still, he knew Elsie had her reasons for refraining - some of those reasons clearly involving him. Therefore, a defense in honour of his colleague seemed to be in order.

 

"I'm not entirely sure it would be appropriate, Mrs. Patmore."

 

"Ah, but you didn't say anything about its quality of sound." She noted with a sly grin, "I'm only teasing you, Mr. Carson - there's no need to look that scandalized!"

 

They both turned back towards Elsie, who was thoroughly hidden by the shelves even though her muttering could still be heard. After a few more seconds, keeping her eye firmly on the clock, Beryl decided to push her luck once more.

 

"How's the search going, Mrs. Hughes?" Beryl was fully grinning at this, a mischievous twinkle settling in her eyes. "Found something just yet?"

 

"You know as well as I that if I had found something, Beryl, I would have already brought it over!"

 

"Well, you've now only got about three minutes and fifteen seconds to prove me wrong!" One exasperated scoff later, they heard the pace of rifling increase.

 

"Mr. Carson, we really must reorganize this library." The complaint shot out about twenty seconds or so later, only getting Beryl to chortle in amusement - quite enjoying every aspect of this.

 

"Which we will do over the summer, as we normally do." However, seeing as how he secretly did want to listen to her rendition of the Fauré piece, Charles wasn't all that inclined to help her out just yet.

 

"You say that as though I've worked here during the summer!"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, are you sure you have the time to for banter? You now only have two minutes and thirty seconds!"

 

"Did I  _ask_ for a countdown?"

 

"Well, now, I see how it is! Would you prefer I just tell you when your time's up?" This time, it was a decidedly sharp harrumph that responded, one that caused unabashed snickers to emit from the band director. Some very choice words were soon muttered at  _sotto voce_ from behind the stacks - words that no respectable student should ever hear.

 

"You forget that us teachers are adept at hearing all dynamic levels!" But, there was no response. It seemed that the choir teacher was putting all of her concentration into the search.

 

And, fortunately for them all, luck was in her favour.

 

"I found it!"

 

"And with only forty seconds left on the clock, can Elsie Hughes prove to her colleagues that her choice is indeed not a love song?"

 

"You never said anything about proving  _that_!" Still, her keys loudly jingled as her heels briskly clicked and clacked against the floor - the harried woman speeding over to where her two colleagues were sat.

 

"And what song did you find?"

 

With a look of triumph, Elsie turned the book to face towards them - swiftly flipping to and proudly displaying the appropriate pages.

 

"Oh, that is a good choice!" Beryl remarked, but Charles did not recognize it at all.

 

"I'm afraid I've not heard of it, Mrs. Hughes." She gave him a look, somewhat surprised. "Is this one of your solo books?"

 

"No. I recognized the book but I found this copy lodged in the back of one of your shelves. Are you sure you've never seen this?"

 

"I didn't even know of its existence until right now." Charles took another look back at the music library - wondering just where she found it.

 

For that matter, he was at a lost for how this songbook had managed to exist in this library without his knowledge.

 

"In that case," Beryl eagerly chimed in, "Should we show him 'I Shall Not Live in Vain" goes? To make sure it's a worthy piece."

 

Elsie shot her a look, "Didn't you just approve of it?"

 

"Ah, yes, but if Mr. Carson has never heard it, surely we must be sure that it is indeed an enriching composition," She began to continue, but her friend held up a hand - decidedly uninterested.

 

"Fine. But only  _after_  I've warmed up."

 

_**Thursday, the 14th of February, 2019** _

 

"When you said you were putting together a little something for the choirs, I thought you meant a card." Mary arched an eyebrow at this comment, carrying a little basket of goodies while Anna held a similar basket.

 

"Members of the choirs took a vested interested in the idea." And by members of the choir, she was referring to Sybil, Gwen, Daisy, William, and several others from each ensemble.

 

"I see." The band director responded, turning the key into the lock and opening the door to 402. "Just how many 'members of the choirs' were there?"

 

"A fair amount," Anna neutrally replied, attempting to brush off the teacher's comment as they all stepped into the dark classroom.

 

"So, when they ask who I've let into the choir room in order to present this gift," Mrs. Patmore dryly started to ask, "What am I to tell them?"

 

Mary gently placed her assortment of gifts on Mr. Carson's desk, Anna walking to the other side of the room and mirroring her friend's actions. In the meantime, both of the young women thought the question over - sharing a look when they've figured out how to respond.

 

"Tell them this, Mrs. Patmore," The eldest Crawley sister primly began, "That, in the eyes of the choirs, this was a collective effort. And its intention was to express gratitude."

 

The band director nodded, taking the sentiment in.

 

"You mentioned yesterday that they might not accept any sort of gift, that they might feel guilty after everything that's happened." Anna brought up, "Well, the truth is, there's no need for such guilt. They don't have to wonder how we feel about their involvement because we understand that it wasn't their fault."

 

"Now, of course, we do not wish for you to get in any trouble, Mrs. Patmore. Therefore, you are under no obligation to keep our identities a secret if they do ask."

 

"Don't worry about me," The older woman responded, watching the two young singers look at the gifts once more. Something told her that, all in all, this was a sweet effort on their part to express the choirs' sentiments.

 

And in the silence of their actions, Beryl already knew that this would all work out.

 

"We forgive them, Mrs. Patmore. We're all rather happy to have them as our teachers, delighted to learn something new every day, and bursting with pride that we get to sing as members of these choirs."

 

"And, hopefully, these gifts will tell them as much if our words cannot reach them."

 

The band director nodded, beckoning the girls to follow her - moving to lock the door once the three of them were on the other side.

 

"Well, for what it's worth, I wish you all the best of luck."

 

Anna and Mary both smiled in deep appreciation of this, definitely unable to describe how much this was all appreciated. To have their teachers support them, to have their authority figures work with them in this fashion, it made a difference.

 

And, hopefully, in only a few hours, all of that gratitude would be conveyed.

 

_._

 

It was nearly a quarter to seven in the morning and, with her questionable level of culinary skills, Elsie Hughes really had no idea what she was doing in the cafeteria's kitchens this early.

 

But, this apparently was not all that early for her companions.

 

"Right," Judging from the ingredients that had ended up on their aprons, it looked like Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore had been here for at least half an hour. "I do believe we're all getting the hang of this."

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson," Alfred replied good-naturedly, turning to spot her as she tried to furtively sneak away. "Good morning, Mrs. Hughes!"

 

"Mrs. Hughes! How good of you to join us!" "Mrs. Hughes! What on Earth are you doing here?"

 

"I've come to offer my assistance in any way I can,"  _Whatever good that'll do._

 

"Perfect!" Beryl spoke before Charles had a chance to say anything else. "In that case, since Mrs. Bird is helping me supervise the kids, perhaps you can help Mr. Carson?"

 

She refrained from sending her friend a look, the smell of matchmaking far more obvious than that of the brownies and biscuits being made.

 

_._

 

"So, we'll collect the desserts from Mrs. Patmore once the fourth period starts," He was running through the plan once more, busying his mind with those thoughts as they traversed the stairs.

 

"Mr. Carson," She had been staring out each window as they passed them, but his revisiting their plan for the fourth time had brought her out of the clouds.

 

"Of course, we'll have to remind all the soloists that they will not be able to rehearse during their lunch periods today."

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie repeated, a little firmer this time. That did take him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to listening to the woman by his side.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She put a hand to temporarily stop their trek up the stairs, making sure that they were out of sight from any of windows.

 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Carson." This had never been one of her favorite holidays, but it felt worthwhile to acknowledge it.

 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Hughes."

 

It was almost ironic, how they had gone from sharing that kiss in the music library and now - on a day where many in the world officially expressed love - they were keeping one another at a respectable arm's length.

 

Well, she could only suppose this suited them.

 

The pair shared a fleeting smile before continuing up the stairs. A short while later, they had made it to 402.

 

"Shall we get the day started then?" However, unlike his usual custom, Charles was gesturing to the door.

 

"On such a special occasion, I believe you should have the privilege, Mrs. Hughes." She mentally chuckled - amused and simultaneously honored by this.

 

Briefly removing her lanyard from around her neck, Elsie found the appropriate key for the classroom and soon found herself unlocking the door. After a moment of unusual anticipation, as though there would be a change within the classroom upon their entering, she opened the door and stepped inside.

 

Flicking on the light, they both stood in the doorway of 402 - enjoying the few seconds of silence afforded them.

 

"Wait a second,"

 

That's when she noticed the basket waiting for her on her desk.

 

And that's when he spotted a similar package awaiting him.

 

_._

 

_To Mr. Carson,_

 

_Please let it be known just how much we've appreciated your dedication to the choirs and your listening to us._ _It did help and it continues to make a difference._

 

_Most Sincerely,_

_The Choirs of Downton_

 

Charles was stunned, to say the least. The chocolates, the little handmade teddy bear dressed in a conductor's garb alongside the card made for a very touching sentiment.

 

And on the other side of the room, a similar note was being revealed.

 

Though, this one was a tad lengthier.

 

_._

 

_To Mrs. Hughes,_

 

_We are all so happy to hear you'll be staying with us! Getting to have you as our teacher for the school year has been beyond brilliant. None of us can say just how much we appreciate your being here. Your metaphors, your lessons, your tips, they're all so cool! Please accept these little gifts as a form of thanks!_

 

_Most Sincerely,_

_The Choirs of Downton_

 

She had a similar basket of gifts to him, the unexpected treasures waiting for her on her desk.

 

"Did you have any idea?" They spoke in unison, getting an answer to that question long before a proper response could be formulated.

 

"I see." "Right."

 

Needless to say, both teachers needed a few minutes to compose themselves before the school day started.

 

And, this was only the beginning.

 

_._

 

"Sybil," He wasn't one for cards or cheesy puns, like so many of their peers. And he wasn't necessarily one for roses either. Or, at least, not in the traditional sense.

 

"Yes?" She looked at Tom curiously, wondering what he was holding behind his back.

 

"Close your eyes, and put out your hand." She did as instructed, trusting him without a second thought.

 

So, when he placed the chocolate rose in the palm of her hand, he was greeted with a beam of delight - that and beautiful, twinkling eyes.

 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sybil."

 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Tom."

 

_._

 

The choir's first in-person performance is one that's a little unorthodox, but that didn't take away from the fact that Elsie loved every second of it

 

_._

_**Valentine's Day 2019 Song Request** _

_From: Martha Levinson_

_To: Violet Crawley_

_Requested Song: Let Me Call You Sweetheart_

_Other Special Requests? - Mrs. Hughes, please send me a recording of the live performance. Thank you._

 

_._

 

The stampede masquerading as a group gentlemen came trouncing down the stairs with a rambunctious energy she inherently did not care for. Suffice to say, it was raucous enough to have garnered her attention even when the choir was still two floors away from the main offices.

 

Ah, the joy of having an institution built during wartime: almost all of the stairwells and hallways allowed for sound to easily echo - giving very few an advantage when it came to being furtive.

 

Still, it was hardly as though the gentlemen were coming from her. It was  _she_  who had sent in a request - no one would have dared to do the reverse.

 

Well, no one currently in the country. The one person who would have dared to has already returned back to the States, fortunately-

 

The knock at the door didn't reassure her. Nor did Mr. Carson's solemn face, when he gravely informed her of the song request.

 

And Mrs. Hughes recording the whole debacle certainly did  _not_ help matters!

 

_._

 

"Looks like someone has an admirer," Ethel unashamedly observed, taking note of the redness in Lavinia's cheeks. The second soprano in question did a double-take at such a statement, clearing her throat and hiding the valentine note within her hands.

 

"Leave her alone," Daisy cut in, before Ethel or anyone could give Lavinia any more trouble.

 

"Why? Nobody sent you anything either?"

 

"Ladies, I think that's quite enough," Elsie interrupted the conversation with ease, not caring for the direction it was going. It was hardly as though they needed such distractions. "I do believe we're supposed to be getting ready to deliver a live Valentine to a Mrs. Gaunt."

 

"We are?" She had not expected Charles to sound quite so horrified at the thought, especially since it garnered so many giggles from the young ladies before them.

 

"Yes, we are." It was terse, but they needed to remain professional in front of fifty young women - especially when these young women would easily get distracted by Mr. Carson stressing out.

 

Little did she know, Mrs. Gaunt was part of the reason she no longer had a toaster.

 

However, all things considered, it was probably for the best that Elsie didn't know that.

 

_._

 

"William, do you have a moment?" The tenor always had a moment for his favorite teacher. And, seeing as how he really didn't want to scurry off to his next class like so many of his peers were currently, he definitely didn't mind the delay.

 

"I do. Is everything alright, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Perfectly alright. Though," The choir director looked around a bit, not wanting to be in earshot of any gossipers. "I was wondering if I could make a request, for something I'd like to do later today."

 

William tilted his head, already intrigued.

 

_._

 

They don't exchange any real words on the subject, or any Valentine equivalents for that matter.

 

But, at one point, he realized he has to say something.

 

"Thomas," They were in the library, preparing for English as per usual. "I just wanted to say thanks."

 

Whether it was for today's help, all the help over the last few weeks, or whatever, the baritone's only thought was that kinder words had not been spoken to him.

 

And he really liked them.

 

_**_._** _

 

It had only been twenty minutes into the bake-sale that they all realized that the school's love of Mrs. Patmore's baking was far greater than anticipated.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He hadn't really wanted to leave her to handle the money, but the students were buying the biscuits and brownies at an unprecedented rate. "Would you be comfortable handling all financial transactions whilst Mrs. Patmore and myself return to the kitchens?"

 

She nodded, already focused on the line that was much longer than they figured.

 

In all honesty, this was for the best. Not only was she far more comfortable working with the sales, it also gave him an excuse to remain in the kitchens for the rest of the lunch periods.

 

And that was rather key to ensure the rest of the day's success.

 

__.__

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" William had no reason to drop by after the school day was over. Or, rather, he didn't have any reason that his teacher knew of. "Do you have a moment?"

 

"What can I do for you, William?"

 

"Well, since you mentioned we'd be performing in front of our classmates soon, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind going over my song a few times in 402?" The woman tilted her head, curious. "Mr. Carson may have brought up that we'd be performing in there when the time came, and so I wanted to try it once in there just to get an idea."

 

"Makes perfect sense." The choir teacher remarked, rising from the piano and gesturing for him to start heading towards 402.

 

Little did she know, William had a few reasons for requesting this rehearsal.

 

And it wasn't just per Mr. Carson's suggestion.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," William was supposed to have packed up and be on his way home by now, but he was still in the doorway. Had been for the last minute, in fact. "I just wanted to say something."

 

"What is it, William?"

 

The tenor paused once more, staring right at her. The words had been brimming within him for the last few weeks, but never before had they struck him with such clarity.

 

"Thank you for staying on, Mrs. Hughes." Her eyes widened a bit at this, though she maintained a calm demeanor overall. "I don't know how the choirs could carry on without you, I honestly don't."

 

He gave her a brief smile before leaving her in silence, far more understanding of her speechlessness than she originally realized. Besides, it had been more about telling her as such than it had been about trying to coax a certain reaction out of her. Therefore, now that he'd spoken his piece and rehearsed, he felt comfortable heading out.

 

Only once was the door closed did Elsie finally take a few shaky steps forward - stunned by how much she apparently needed to hear those words. The gifts were touching, the letter very kind, as well as the overall sentiment of the day.

 

However, to hear such a simple and heartfelt affirmation spoke more than all of that. It moved her to the point where she found herself stepping out into the hallway - hoping the tenor hadn't already scurried off into the sunset.

 

"What the?" Thoughts of William had evaporated upon entering the hallway. After giving a cursory gaze to look for the young singer, she realized that there was something more pressing:

 

Leftover hard copies of the Valentine's Day requests had been carefully taped to the windows attached to the doors of 403 - obscuring any sight of the classroom. And next to these papers was a large note that said all further rehearsals for the 14th of February were to be cancelled.

 

Suffice to say, she was bewildered by it all.

 

403 was her domain - her space. Nobody would have any reason to touch or alter any aspect of it, and certainly not without her prior knowledge. And nobody would dare to cancel any of her rehearsals, for those were the only ones left, not without notifying her first.

 

Now, had Elsie thought it through, she would have concluded that there had to have been a good reason for Charles to have done as such - for he was the only one who would've dared to do this. As it was, she was still processing all of the day's kindness. And, so, it was with a determined wariness that she took hold of the doorknob and opened the door - unsure of what on Earth was occurring before the door.

 

"Charles?"

 

She was no longer bewildered.

 

Rather, Elsie was now astonished.

 

He had maneuvered the piano closer to the whiteboard, having brought the only table in the room towards the center. A pristine white tablecloth adorned it, accompanied by two of the chairs the students normally took.

 

Yet, that wasn't all. There was a tasteful bouquet of pink, white, and red roses blended together with pink and red lilies. That was laid out in addition two serving plates - their contents hidden for the time being - as well as eating utensils, napkins, glasses, two dinner plates, and a bottle of sparkling white grape juice.

 

They were still on campus, after all. Therefore, that was going to be the closest to bringing alcohol into the building - something that Charles was surprisingly strict about.

 

"Yes, Elsie?" Conversing as though this were a normal occurrence, the man was beaming with pleasure at the very sight of her.

 

That's she realized he addressed her with her Christian name.

 

And not only did Charles do so willingly, but he also did so within the walls of the school.

 

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Hughes?" It's only then that she realized she hadn't said a word towards any of it. That his beam was fading a little because he was starting to hesitate - believing that, perhaps, he had just crossed a terrible line.

 

_Oh, no you don't!_ She did not just receive this wonderful surprise only to have it brought back to a more cordial ground.

 

"It's perfect, Charles," Elsie even went as far as to lock both doors before anything else - not wanting to leave anything to chance. "Absolutely perfect. How did you manage it all?"

 

"I may have had help." And, suddenly, the last twenty minutes made sense.

 

"You mean, you told William of your plans?" That was news indeed, considering William was a student. After all, they had agreed on one of their many walks that the students weren't to officially know of their budding relationship for quite some time.

 

"William only knew that I wanted you out of the room for a little while - and he had assumed it was so that I could tidy it up in your absence."

 

"Did he now?" Elsie shot him a look - surprised by his somewhat devious way of convincing one of his favorite students to help. However, the man was already dismissing the act of subterfuge. Instead, pulling out one of the two chairs, Charles waited patiently for her to be seated before gently pushing the chair back into its place. "Thank you."

 

"It's my pleasure." However, he didn't sit down just yet. Rather, he revealed the first of the two surprises: a plateful of sandwiches that he had somehow managed to prepare amongst the bake-sale today.

 

"My, my," She lightly spoke, unable to refrain from smiling at the sight. "It looks like we're in for quite the treat."

 

Charles smiled warmly at that, recognizing that - underneath her quip - she was rather appreciative of the sentiment that motivated his choice.

 

"I know that they're pale in comparison to Mrs. Patmore's," He began, but she was far too touched to let him continue in that self-deprecating manner.

 

"I know they'll be delicious."

 

"Yes, well, even if they're not, I do know this will be." And with a flourish that had to have been practiced, he unveiled the second dish for the evening:

 

His famous apple crumble. The very dish she had been waiting to taste ever since Beryl had mentioned it.

 

"Now, I know there is chocolate waiting for you in 402. But I hate to change a plan when there's no need."

 

The woman chuckled at this, having the funniest feeling that she'd heard those words somewhere before - almost as though they had had this experience before.

 

No matter; even if that were the case, there was no time like the present.

 

"That's something even I know," Elsie wryly responded, gesturing for him to sit down and properly join her. "Go on: it is Valentine's Day."

 

"So it is." Charles softly agreed, finally taking the chair.

 

This only brightened her smile, transforming it into an enchanting grin.

 

"So it is."


	16. Exasperations and Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next installment that I think a fair amount of you have been looking forward to! Much less singing this time around, but we'll get back to our regular programming soon enough ;D
> 
> Furthermore, I'd like to say that this is the first time I will be hitting the 100K mark for any story. Technically, if you exclude the author notes, we're still a few thousand words shy. However, just the fact that this story is branching out to this length is a flooring realization. And, so, I wanted to thank each and every one of you for being a part of this.
> 
> And, finally, disclaimer: I do not own Uber nor do I make any money/anything by mentioning it in this chapter.

 

_**Monday, the 18th of February, 2019** _

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

_**How does meeting for lunch this Wednesday sound? I know it's short notice, but we've been busier here than anticipated.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles** _

 

_._

 

_**Charles,** _

 

_**Lunch could work, but dinner would be a guarantee. Of course, like a performance, I'm adaptable to anything.** _

_**Will your assistant also be joining us?** _

 

_**Alice** _

 

_._

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

_**Dinner should be possible for that evening. And, yes, my colleague will be joining us.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles** _

 

_._

 

_**Dear Charles,** _

 

_**Perfect! There's a French bistro in Ripon - "Folie à Deux" - that I'm a particular fan of. Or, I dare say there'll be a nearby pub serving something edible if you or your colleague aren't in the mood for a fine delicacy.** _

 

_**Fondly,** _

_**Alice** _

 

_._

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

_**A pub works perfectly! We'll meet you at, say, at six o'clock?** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles** _

 

_._

 

_**Dear Charles,** _

 

_**Six o'clock it is. Also, one of my own colleagues who will unfortunately not be accompanying us, has suggested 'The Red Fox'. Does that sound agreeable?** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Alice** _

 

_._

 

_**Dear Alice,** _

 

_**That does indeed. In that case, we'll plan to see you then.** _

 

_**Best,** _

_**Charles** _

 

_._

_**Tuesday, the 19th of February, 2019** _

 

"I'm not really sure what you've to worry about," Beryl bluntly spoke, "Even if she isn't acting in a completely professional matter, you don't have to let that control your actions."

 

Charles shot her a look, a little indignant over the way the woman phrased the matter.

 

"I wouldn't necessarily say Alice has ever 'controlled my actions'." He remarked, more than a little miffed.

 

"Really?" Came the wry response.

 

They were sitting her office, safely sequestered away from the choir rooms. Elsie was bombarded with more soloists than ever now that the competitions were only a month away - giving Charles plenty of reason not to bother her about this matter. Or, at least, he wouldn't say anything until she was done being swarmed with singers for the day - which wouldn't be occurring at least until 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

 

However, if he couldn't turn to Elsie when it came to his concerns, it seemed that - instead of just keeping his thoughts to himself - he now felt inclined to share them with Mrs. Patmore.

 

Suffice to say, wonders would never cease.

 

_._

 

"Rose, I want you to try a particular exercise." The first soprano looked at her teacher with great fascination, prepared to do anything.

 

"Will I get to squat, Mrs. Hughes?" Elsie almost snorted at the question, the inquiry confirming the fact that at least some of her students did share their rehearsals with one another.

 

"Not quite." Rose deflated a bit, "Though, if you'd like, we can try that after this."

 

"Okay!" The grin was back. "What would you like me to do?"

 

"Well, I noticed you bought yourself a Starbucks drink today," The older woman gestured to the concoction in question - a fancy-looking cold drink, complete with that Starbucks green straw - perched on the piano.

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry - I've left that on the piano!"

 

"It's quite alright, that's not why I pointed it out."

 

"It's not?" This was proving to be a far more entertaining rehearsal than she anticipated - though, perhaps it was not all that kind to take amusement from Rose verbally jumping around.

 

"No. In fact, I'd like you to use your drink in this exercise." Rose's face quirked in curiosity, her interest clearly piqued. "I'd like you to blow bubbles into your drink through the straw."

 

She looked at the drink, and then back at her teacher. And then once more at her drink, before resolving to just look at her teacher.

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, I don't think I heard you correctly. What did you want me to do?"

 

_._

 

"But, what if her motivations for arranging this meeting are more Rabelaisian than anything else?"

 

"Mr. Carson, you are not required to do anything that this Alice woman wants you to do. And, if I'm not mistaken, Mrs. Hughes will be there."

 

"Although I suppose I do agree that you are correct about my not being required to do anything, I'm afraid I don't see your point in regards to Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore."

 

"I suspect it'll make sense come Wednesday, Mr. Carson. But,"

 

"Mrs. Patmore?" Daisy knocked on the door to her office. "Oh, pardon me, Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Carson."

 

"What is it, Daisy?" Somehow, this felt like a familiar scene to Charles. Being in the band director's office, having a crucial conversation with her, and being unwittingly interrupted by a student.

 

However, unlike the last time, it wasn't he who was benefitting from the interruption.

 

_._

 

Once Rose began to understand how blowing bubbles was engaging the same core muscles as healthy singing would, her rendition of Debussy's song increased in regards to its potential.

 

"Now, with this song, if you find yourself forgetting to breathe just pretend to blow bubbles." Elsie had advised. "In fact, you can practice by humming your notes whilst blowing bubbles right now."

 

Rose was already on it - grabbing her drink again the second she was given the suggestion. And, truly, there was improvement. Even as a bubbly hum, the sound had more breath support and more power behind it.

 

Of course, thinking of bubbles had Elsie thinking of drinks. Which only provided her with thoughts about the upcoming dinner with Alice and Charles this week. Which only resulted in,

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean to spill my drink all over the top of the piano!"

 

"Never you mind, Rose. Just fetch me some paper towels and we'll clean it up."

 

"Of course! ... You won't be telling Mr. Carson, right?" Elsie sent her a look that radiated disbelief. "Right."

 

_._

_**Wednesday, the 20th of February, 2019** _

 

They were late.

 

Alice didn't know why, but she could only assume that Charles and his colleague got caught in traffic. Though, traffic or not, if he didn't get here within the next ten minutes, he would be paying for the bill - make no mistake.

 

_._

 

"I knew this wasn't a good idea," Kristy Peterson, just another young adult attempting to make a living as an Uber driver, was more than a little amused by her current passengers. "We're going to be late by the time we finally get there."

 

"You were the one who said walking was out of the question." The man's significant other, for how could they be anything else when they sat so close to one another, cheekily reminded him of this fact - looking just as amused. "It's not my fault if this was the best alternative."

 

However, as funny as the remark was, Kristy couldn't snort at the sass. Instead, she had to settle for paying even closer attention to the road - finding herself a little disappointed that they were already only a few minutes away from Ripon.

 

"Yes, well, I didn't seem to agree to cavorting about the countryside in an Uber." Truly, she hadn't heard language this verbose come from her backseat in quite awhile. It was quite refreshing.

 

Even if he was insulting her way of life.

 

"So, the next time we have to do something like this, you'd rather Beryl drive us over and join us in the process? She's the only one with a car after all."

 

The resounding quiet that struck the backseat area of the car really made it difficult to focus on the road - especially when Kristy saw just how hard it was for the man to not say anything. She herself was having quite the struggle not snickering or snorting at the sight.

 

Well, whoever this Beryl person was, she was more than welcome to join this couple on their next Uber adventure, that was for sure.

 

_._

 

_I wonder who Charles has hired this_   _time..._

 

With only a few minutes to six o'clock, Alice was inclined to put her time to good use: that was best served by imagining who she'd be interacting with this evening.

 

Naturally, Charles' colleague would probably be emanating a distinguished attitude - one that wouldn't tolerate jokes or any good fun, much like how her longtime friend pretended to. A physical description of this person was proving to be entertaining: a scrawny young man who probably rehearsed more than he breathed, maybe an elderly character who's idea of fun was listening to Ralph Vaughan Williams on repeat, etc.

 

With each passing minute, she became more and more tickled by her imagination - being thoroughly distracted by her thoughts. So much so, that she almost didn't notice 6 o'clock approach.

 

However, the key emphasis on the previous sentence would be the word 'almost' and nothing else.

 

_._

 

"Yes, this is the place - thank you!" It seemed Mr. Carson, for this was apparently his name, was all too eager to depart from the car. Though, Mrs. Hughes - for that's what he apparently liked to call his girlfriend - looked like she was perfectly content to linger. "Yes, just drop us off here! No, not this corner, but that one!"

 

"Thank you," The woman kindly spoke to Kristy from the back seat once they were stopped in front of the pub. By this point, her companion had already bolted for the door. "And, please, ignore my friend's rudeness. It's no excuse, but he's not having the best of days."

 

Kristy nodded good-naturedly, still faintly amused by it all.

 

"Of course. Have a nice night, Mrs. Hughes!" With a smile, Elsie slipped gracefully out of the car. "And, good luck to you."

 

It's true that this Mr. Carson character had proven himself to be quite entertaining in the few minutes she drove them. However, how a kind woman like her was with a grouch like him escaped Kristy. Throughout the whole car ride - a drive of less than half an hour - Mrs. Hughes was perfectly friendly while her "friend" was absolutely on edge. Not to mention, why a couple didn't use one another's Christian names in conversation confused Kristy more than anything.

 

Ah, well. To each their own.

 

_._

 

In an effort to keep her attention off the clock, Alice switched from a visual image to picturing the flattery Charles and his colleague would give her this evening. Seeing as how they were both late by two minutes, they'd naturally be most inclined in making up for their tardiness by expressing the sweetest of compliments towards her. It made perfect sense - even if they weren't late, she almost always garnered adulation for her mere existence.

 

And, speaking of her two fellow gentlemen this evening, Alice caught sight of Charles in the entrance of the pub. She gave a sweet smile as well as a fond wave, her eyes going back to her menu with a practiced ease. It wouldn't do butter him up too much and have the man think he was off the hook for being four minutes late.

 

"Alice," She was pleased that it was an unusually breathy version of her name - it signaled how much of a rush he'd been in to get here on time. "I'm so sorry to have kept you."

 

"Oh, it's alright, Charles," The woman lightly dismissed the matter, pretending to still be looking at her menu for a sufficient time. "I understand that you had no intention of actually being late, not for a dinner with me."

 

"Of course," Her smile brightened into a grin at this, her gaze finally up at the approaching man and his colleague-

 

_._

 

"Elsie Hughes?  _The_  Elsie Hughes?"

 

Charles blinked, not having expected Alice to know Elsie's name. Elsie, for that matter, had hardly expected to be recognized.

 

Though, as they approached the table and they were both able to see the woman waiting for them, there seemed to be one more surprise.

 

"Alice Neal?" Elsie really did seem recognize the woman - stirring an emotion within him that he didn't quite recognize. "The 'Lark of Song'?"

 

"I take it you two know each other?"

 

_._

 

"So, I have to ask," After they got themselves settled - orders placed, drinks obtained- it seemed Charles was going to now interrogate them both on just how they knew one another. "How did you two meet?"

 

Though, really, Elsie was impressed that he waited this long to say anything.

 

"Oh, we never really met, Charles," Alice remarked, garnering a nod. "You just can't help crossing paths when you're both successful singers."

 

Elsie smiled appreciatively at this, not having expected to be paid any sort of compliment.

 

"And, of course, I'm sure you've been an admirer of mine for some time, Elsie. It's really no wonder that you recognized me."

 

Her smile froze, cracking a bit after she mentally replayed that last part.

 

"Well, I suppose," But Alice was already moving on.

 

"So, tell me: how do you intend to cajole the secrets of The Center out of me tonight, Charles?" At his scandalized look, she snickered. "I'm only teasing you, you daft man. I know your standards would never stoop to anything such as cajoling - right, Elsie?"

 

This was going to be a long dinner.

 

_._

 

_Just what was Charles thinking, hiring a woman like her on?_

 

Having observed the two of them during the last twenty minutes, the signs were already clear to Alice that Elsie Hughes - famed soprano she may have once been - was now resorting to taking on the role of a temptress to maintain her income. Throughout the whole conversation, the woman kept redirecting any of Alice's talking points back to Charles. And not only that! This siren masquerading as a teacher was far too familiar with him in general, occasionally brushing up against his arm or drifting towards him when there was a lull in their little chat.

 

Honestly, if Alice did not show just how ridiculous this woman was being by the end of the evening, she didn't know what she'd do!

 

_._

 

It had all started so well. Truly, it felt like something out of a dream to witness Alice and Elsie recognize one another and then proceed to chat away as though they were great friends.

 

Charles didn't know what he had been expecting, really. The only time there was a third party involved with these things is when Charlie Grigg caught wind of their meetings and decided to insert himself into the proceedings. This time, however, it seemed that the co-founder of The Center was nowhere to be found. In fact, it looked like only compliments and cordiality were to be had at this table tonight.

 

Or, at least, that's what he originally thought. But, then Alice kept making these comments towards Elsie that really were not all that kind. And Elsie looked as though she weren't conversing with someone like Mrs. Patmore, but rather someone like Emma.

 

Well, he didn't like that, not one bit. He didn't like the sound of Alice's voice, and he didn't like how Elsie looked a little weary the longer this all went on.

 

If it weren't for the fact that they'd only been here for about thirty minutes, he'd already be nudging them towards the door.

 

_._

 

An hour. Sixty minutes. That how they'd been here and Elsie was already beginning to lose her patience.

 

It was quite simple, really: Alice kept jabbing her with subtle comments that basically translated as "You are talented, I suppose. However, you're not nearly as talented as me." Those were also combined with furtive remarks about her being a "Mrs." even though she no longer wore a ring, and how she seemed a little too intimate with Mr. Carson for only knowing him a few months, and, well….

 

Well, if it weren't for the fact that Charles had known this woman for as long as Elsie had been friends with Beryl, she'd up and leave the pub. Honestly, even though Charles had known this woman for as long as he did - even if he did even work with her, once upon a time - Elsie was about twenty minutes or so from just leaving.

 

_._

 

_So, Elsie Hughes dares to speak of how fortunate she has been to work with Downton's choirs?_  Well, Alice has had the privilege of working with choirs that would put Downton's to shame!

 

Of course, she wouldn't say such things in front of Charles - no need to remind him of the truth when it came to their respective choirs.

 

However, just because she couldn't speak of the truth did not mean she would be silent. The second she could, Alice would be reminding the obnoxious diva before her of her place.

 

_._

 

"Yes, well, even though I'm sure it's quite a treat to perform in places like the House of Blues, though I do wonder why you accepted such an invitation, I cannot believe it's quite the same honor as being asked to perform in prestigious-"

 

Alright, that was enough. Hearing what he now recognized to be an incessant one-upmanship for almost an hour and a half had worn away his tolerance of such behavior. And, yes, even he was aware of the fact that Alice had been interspersing this one-sided competition with equivocal quips directed solely at Elsie.

 

Well, enough was enough.

 

"Alice," Charles unapologetically interrupted her before she could continue once more down this path. "You speak of grand performances and glorious privileges, and yet you've been dismissing the idea that Mrs. Hughes has had those same opportunities. Now, I realize that you've had quite the career. However, you seem to be forgetting the respect for the other performers that should come with such a career."

 

His longtime acquaintance looked outright affronted by this, appearing to be irritated that he interrupted her and exasperated that he dared to make quite a remark.

 

"'Respect'? You speak of respect, Charles, and yet you seem to be forgetting that you lied to me as to-"

 

"Really, now," Elsie was not going to be having it. "I'm sure Mr. Carson did not 'lie' to you about anything, Alice."

 

"Elsie, by interrupting me, you're only tossing aside the respect that Charles had been speaking of. And, I'd like to remind you that this dinner was  _my_  suggestion, and that you do not have the right to speak about matters you're not privy to. For that, I'd rather you only call me Miss Neal."

 

"I would like to remind you, Alice," Charles shot across the table, now letting an indignation bring his voice to a building  _mezzo-forte_. "That you do not have the right to address one of my colleagues in such an impertinent fashion."

 

"'Colleagues'?" Alice repeated disdainfully, happily letting her own voice match his dynamic level. "Is that what they call it these days?"

 

"And just what is that suppose to mean?" "I beg your pardon-"

 

"Only that I can't help but wonder if your Mrs. Butte left of her own accord or because this charlatan here arranged it." Alice shot Elsie a look reeking of derision - highly unimpressed. "Tell me, how long does it take to seduce your boss into letting you keep your job, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"That is quite enough!" Charles began to hotly interrupt, no longer standing for such words.

 

But Elsie was already powerfully rising to her feet - reaching out a hand to stop her friend before he said something he regretted. With a presence that demanded the very respect Charles had previously spoken of, her eyes glowed with a righteous anger. Her lips thinned into a line that brook no argument, her body radiated an ire that would be heard.

 

In short, she was in no mood to be trifled with - silencing them both without saying a word.

 

"I am sorry that you feel this is how you must act, Miss Neal," Her curt words coldly sliced into the air, "But I will not tolerate such atrocious behavior - not towards myself nor Mr. Carson. It's highly childish, quite deplorable, and frankly untrue."

 

Now, Elsie could have ranted about how it was an insult to her talent to imply that she needed to "seduce" her colleague in order to have a job. Or how piteous it was that a woman with Alice Neal's career felt this threatened by a mere choir teacher.

 

However, to do so would be to waste her breath. She knew Alice's type, a type that would not listen no matter what was said. And she also knew that there were better things she could be doing.

 

So, instead of letting the woman get to her, Elsie promptly put her coat back on, turned on her heel and gracefully stormed out of the pub - quite ready to move on from such infuriating matters.

 

_._

 

As he watched her exit, Charles turned back to stare at his longtime acquaintance - not ready to let his own indignation go just yet.

 

"I am incredibly disappointed in your behavior tonight." Alice swiftly turned back to him, her mouth rapidly thinning in its own line of vexation at this lecture. However, he couldn't give a flying fig about her personal vexations. "We may have to interact with each other during competitions, but I am not going to continue any correspondence with someone who slanders my colleagues."

 

"Oh, really? That's that?" He kept a frosty gaze fixed on the woman before him. He'd never had a reason to truly dislike Alice before. Playing with him while their careers were first building was painful, but she at least seemed to have a purpose with that when she had decided to reject him - choosing a career over potential love.  _This_ just seemed petty, as though she were stuck in the stage that had been their twenties - content to live only in former glories and swipe away anything that threatened that past.

 

Yes, well, when those actions insulted Elsie, he would no longer tolerate them.

 

"That is that." And with a finality Charles never before felt, he made an equally frigid exit.

 

_._

 

Fingers hastily tapping her phone screen in order to call an Uber, Elsie practiced an old breathing technique designed to calm down nerves before a performance - a little tip she'd learned from studying the Alexander Technique.

 

It's not the first time she'd taken such backhanded remarks from a fellow performer. Still, it always took effort to let those insults truly slide off her back. Confidence or no, she'd still had to be a part of the interaction, still had to concentrate on letting go of all that unnecessary pettiness.

 

And, tonight had only served to remind her that this wasn't going to be the only time someone would be accusing her of being some sort of seductress. That in itself made it a little harder to just let the dinner go.

 

So, by the time he finally joined her on the pavement outside, she was already lost to her wondering. The ideas that she should just go another way weren't winning over her actions tonight, per se, but she was certainly caught up in them.

 

To the point that she was hardly aware of just how cold it was outside.

 

"Should we ask Beryl to pick us up?" It's the first question that pierces her thoughts, even though her eyes remain glued to her phone screen in an effort to avoid looking at him. What Charles must think of the whole situation was beyond her, to say the least.

 

Truly, it was probably for the best to call it an early night.

 

"I'm already in the process of ordering an Uber."

 

She could feel his nod as he stood beside her.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry that you had to be subjected to that." The apology didn't reach her, not really. It registered as something to consider, but nothing more.

 

Still, even though the apology fell short, there was something else that did catch her attention.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie looked on in confusion at her companion, pausing in her order of an Uber. "I must ask again: why do you continue to call me by that title? If anything, I should be 'Mrs. Burns'."

 

His face unintentionally cringed at hearing "Mrs. Burns", the title sounding all too wrong. Even if she did have a happy marriage with the man, "Mrs. Burns" sounded as suitable as the name "Alice Neal-Carson" - that is to say, not at all.

 

But, she did pose a valid question. One that may not be appropriate after this evening, but one that deserved to be answer.

 

Even if he couldn't really explain it.

 

"I do as such because it feels right, Mrs. Hughes." Really, not his most stellar explanation in regards to eloquence. Still, it would have to suffice. "I wish I could give you a proper explanation, but all I can say is that it feels right."

 

Truly, there was something about referring to her as "Mrs. Hughes" that felt incredibly appropriate, as though she were meant to carry that name for all of time. "Ms." found itself to be lacking for him, like a chord that was missing a crucial note. "Mrs.", on the other hand, only reminded him of the types of chords that - when properly sung - would create even more notes. It resonated on a level that was far too fitting to describe in a verbal fashion, as much as he wanted to.

 

Elsie looked at him once more, tilting her head a bit as she appeared to give this pondering more thought - the conversation drifting into a quiet air of contemplation. And for a moment, it was as though she had absorbed all of his feelings - as though she'd understood every unspoken word.

 

"Shall we call that Uber then?" It was the only thing he could think to say. But, with everything that happened, he was still too on edge for silence.

 

And, if she didn't want to discuss the dinner, then perhaps it was for the best for them to call it a night.

 

"Before we do," Elsie closed the app and put away her phone. "I was wondering if we should perhaps redeem our evening?"

 

Charles blinked, not having expected any suggestion of the sort after the last two hours. Had he been in her shoes, he would probably want to be left alone for several hours or quite possibly take a long walk in the moonlight to think in solitude.

 

However, he had no objection to spending further time in her company - if she so desired.

 

"Did you have anything in mind?"

 

Elsie inclined her head towards the direction they came, an idea shimmering in her eyes.

 

"I think I saw an ice cream parlour on the way in."

 

"Ice cream? In  _February_?" But, Elsie was already walking in the aforementioned direction - causing him to quickly pick up the pace and trail behind.

 

Still, even though she was already purposefully striding in the direction of dessert, his incredulous tone did manage to obtain a soft, distracted chuckle.

 

"Ice cream." She calmly repeated over her shoulder. "In February."

 

Charles raised both eyebrows in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend why they should go about in search of a cold treat when they were already freezing.

 

But, after a moment, an enticing image of her involving herself with ice cream came to mind. And, though he really should have continued to protest, he found himself unwilling to let that image go.

 

"Oh, why not?" The man muttered, trying to keep his current thoughts out of his voice. Though, as the choir director of Downton Academy, even if he were taken with the idea he still had to point out the flaw in her plan. "It's not as though we have to sing for multiple choirs tomorrow and can't afford to consume dairy products at this time."

 

Her chuckle grew into a chortle, as she sent him another look over her shoulder - still undeterred.

 

"I'm so glad you understand, Mr. Carson." Elsie spoke in a deadpan sort of fashion. "While we're at it, we should probably cancel classes for tomorrow and take the day off."

 

"Now,  _that_  I simply must protest, Mrs. Hughes!" He could feel the air around her shift into a more playful energy at this, the cold fading away the more this continued.

 

"Oh, of that, I'm sure."


	17. Flus and Not-So-Furtive Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next part always does seem to happen in every choir I'm in at least once a year - and has definitely happened to myself several times in the past. It's also a great excuse to delve into one of my favorite genres and give some more cutesy Chelsie moments.
> 
> Also, enjoy our delving into other perspectives! As much as I do love focusing on Chelsie, I think we ought to have a little fun seeing the world from other viewpoints from time to time :)

 

**Thursday, the 21st February, 2019**

Waking up to feeling as though one's throat was incredibly sore, one stomach's was rather upset, and one's overall existence felt drained due to consuming an excess of dairy products was not fun. Especially not when one's main occupation involved singing.

 

However, if one were to think about the delight that came with sampling so many different ice creams the previous evening, as well as how much pleasure came from letting go of the day's frustrations with a dearly loved one, one could find themselves having no regrets about the matter.

 

This was the case of one Elsie Hughes who, upon waking up at a somewhat ungodly hour, felt a great satisfaction at having treated herself with delectable desserts the prior evening - and with wonderfully sweet company to boot.

 

And, yes, this was the case even with her throat currently demanding hot tea and honey as the price for such indulgence.

 

_._

 

Charles Carson had known in his bones that yielding to the temptation of ice cream at a time like this was not one of his wisest moves. When competitions were still upon them, his typical guidelines for handling confectionery indulgences was to avoid any such culinary debauchery for weeks.

 

And, still, even as he woke up to the feelings that accompanied his throat after losing himself in dairy products, he couldn't help but remember Elsie as she gleefully also released her own inhibitions about the matter.

 

Though, if he remembered the matter correctly, she had far fewer inhibitions to release than he did.

 

_._

 

"You mean to tell me that he actually tried ice cream that was supposed to taste like Irn-Bru?" Beryl had caught her friend on the way to the academy, intent on interrogating Elsie on everything that happened last night. Currently, they were embroiled in the matter of the sweeter part of the evening.

 

"I don't see why that's so hard to believe," Elsie primly responded, clearing her throat after a second. "It's a worthy flavor to try."

 

"But, this is Mr. Carson." Beryl reminded her, somewhat in awe of her friend. "And I've known Mr. Carson for a while now. He doesn't care for Coke or Pepsi, let alone Irn-Bru."

 

"Maybe so. But this is an ice cream flavor, not a soft drink." Elsie said, a playful air guiding her tone. "And, it was absolutely delicious."

 

"I'm sure." Beryl agreed hesitantly, still not understanding why her friend had such a love for the drink. She tried it once and it seemed alright, but not something worth turning into an ice cream flavor. "I still can't believe that that's what the supposed Lark of Song was like in person."

 

"I can." The choir director cleared her throat once more, taking another sip of the contents of her thermos: beautiful, soothing Throat Coat tea. That, in addition to the rolled up yoga mat she was carrying, made for quite the walk today. "Just because she has a good voice doesn't mean she's guaranteed to have a good personality."

 

"I know, it's just disappointing to hear about it. Mr. Carson never mentioned his knowing her until all of this."

 

"There was probably a good reason for that." Elsie muttered, prompting Beryl to snort in amusement. This in turn brought in more chortles and coughs, the latter concerning the band director a bit.

 

"Everything alright?"

 

"You know as well as I that too much ice cream doesn't help to sing." Beryl nodded at this, knowing very well indeed.

 

"But I bet that part of the evening more than made up for it." This time, Elsie shot her a look - they were only a few minutes from the entrance of Downton, after all.

 

Still, after more than thirty years of friendship, let's just say that those looks had long since lost their power.

 

"So, who's the yoga mat for?" Beryl finally asked, knowing what vocal exercise the yoga mat entailed.

 

"Oh, I don't think you get to know the answer to that after all of that cheekiness," Elsie quipped back, getting an arched eyebrow for her sass.

 

"Is it for Edith?" The choir teacher shook her head. "Thomas? Jimmy? Anna?"

 

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." Beryl scoffed at this, unable to believe that Elsie wouldn't just tell her.

 

"Do I need to tell Mr. Carson of your first experience with that exercise?"

 

"You wouldn't dare." Elsie retorted, "Because if you did I'd have to bring up the time you-"

 

"Oh, look at the time! I best be off!" Beryl was already speeding off towards to the entrance of the school before her friend could finish her sentence.

 

But, instead of matching the band director's  _moderato_ pace, the choir teacher settled for a calm and highly-pleased-with-herself pace along the lines of  _andantino_.

 

That is until she got into another small coughing fit.

 

_._

 

"Has anyone seen Lavinia today?" Any student of a choir or ensemble who was absent was a student that Elsie was concerned about - especially if the choir teacher hadn't received any prior heads up about said absence.

 

"I think she's staying home today, Mrs. Hughes." Daisy piped up from her seat. "I remember her saying something about not feeling well."

 

Elsie nodded at this, thanking Daisy for sharing that information. That meant she'd probably be receiving an email saying as such from Lavinia herself - if the second soprano hadn't already sent something.

 

"Yes, well, if you see her before we do, please tell her that we hope she gets better soon."

 

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes."

 

Concern now put aside for the time being, she looked at the ensemble before her.

 

Sixteen young women had volunteered to perform as the Bel Canto ensemble for their choir competition on March 23rd. All sixteen singers were incredibly competent, rather hard-working, and very willing to listen to any critiques.

 

In short, all sixteen young women formed one of her favourite ensembles of the semester - not that she was supposed to have favourites, mind.

 

Still, even a choir teacher is allowed to have the occasional favourites.

 

"Now, ladies, in regards to our ensemble piece, I have a few things I'd like us to work on." Elsie began, looking over the music in particular. "When it comes to the vowels, we definitely still need taller shapes. And, please, commit to making it the brightest vowel or darkest vowel you can - depending on what's needed."

 

Serious assent echoed throughout the ensemble, the singers taking in her words with consideration.

 

"When it comes to the meaning of song itself," The young ladies brightened, very curious to see what she'd have for them today. "While the tempo is faster than what we normally do, I want you take the time to really sing the meaning of the piece. 'Dance on My Heart' is all about receiving affection and love, and finding that special someone who speaks to your soul.

 

"Therefore, I'd like you all to take a moment to think of that special someone who - time and time again - has proven to be someone truly special. I'm sure many have tried to do as such, just like the first two gentlemen who somewhat attempted in the song. But, I'm just as sure that there is probably someone in your life who just might reflect the third gentleman in the song. And, if there hasn't been anyone just yet, I'd like you to imagine just what that person could be like - I want you to think of the type of person who would 'dance on your heart' and 'sing to your soul'."

 

She herself already had a certain someone coming to mind. Someone who was currently working with the rest of Bel Canto on the regular choir pieces. However, now was not the time nor place to get distracted by those musings - not when there was a competition to prep for.

 

"Shall we give it a go then?"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes!"

 

_._

 

William approached the door to 403, hesitant to say the least. He'd spotted Mrs. Hughes' yoga mat tucked away in the corner during class earlier. And, for some reason, he had a very strong feeling that the yoga mat would be making an appearance in his rehearsal.

 

Sure enough: the black mat was laid out on the floor, waiting quite close by the piano. He took a few seconds to study it, having no idea why it was being brought out today.

 

"I assure you, I washed it just for this occasion." The tenor jumped, surprised at his teacher's ability to sneak up on him.

 

"Mrs. Hughes!" She raised an eyebrow at the surprise, clearing her throat before she began to respond.

 

"I did knock." William nodded a little at this, sure of that - even if he didn't hear the knock. "And, I did bring out the yoga mat especially for you."

 

"But, why, Mrs. Hughes?" She smiled a little at the curiosity, pleased he wasn't running away from the new idea just yet.

 

"One of the best ways to maintain good posture is to lay down on the floor - specifically, lying flat on your back. And since I've no interest in getting you or your clothes dirty from the floor, that's where the yoga mat comes in."

 

He continued to stare at the yoga mat as she spoke, still looking at a loss as to what to do and not sure if he should really engage in such an exercise.

 

"Now, we're still going to be warming up in a moment. But, would you like me to demonstrate first?" Well, clearly he did, judging by the intensity of his nod.

 

"Yes, please."

 

Mrs. Hughes smiled a bit at this, happy to have an excuse to lie down for a moment.

 

"First, allow me to sing it as you've been singing it." Once he gave assent to this, she let her shoulders slump in sheepishness as her body withdrew into itself - imitating his posture without even really trying.

 

" _Down yonder green valley_

_Where streamlets meander,"_

 

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't as good as it could be. There was a breathy quality of hesitancy coloring the tone, not giving him much chance to let the lyrics shine.

 

William chuckled faintly at this, a little embarrassed and feeling a bit awkward. He never seemed to get this quite right, not even after rehearsing for the weeks he had been.

 

"There's no need to be ashamed, William." She kindly reminded him, stopping the demonstration. "The important part is that you're willing to try. And, you've already improved so much."

 

Really, just a few weeks of rehearsal had already given him more confidence than she anticipated. Now, it was just about coaxing him further out of his shell. That's typically what stopped many singers from properly succeeding - their confidence in themselves.

 

"So, that was the okay version," The tenor said, more than happy to change the subject. "What's the better version?"

 

Mrs. Hughes seemed to mentally sigh, a little disappointed her student was already sweeping away the praise. Still, she straightened up and allowed herself to regain her normal posture.

 

"The second version," Gracefully lowering herself on the yoga mat, Mrs. Hughes proceeded to lie down on her back in a dignified fashion. "Is more along the lines of this."

 

Now flat on the floor, she kept her body aligned and deeply breathed once more - already feeling a difference between this position and slouching from earlier.

 

" _Down yonder green valley_

_Where streamlets meander,"_

 

With breath that felt far more free this time around, Elsie continued to sing with a beautiful and clear tone. Much less breath coated the lyrics this time, letting the sound properly ring.

 

This was, of course, the moment Mr. Carson had entered 403.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry to interrupt but-" He stopped, confused because she wasn't in an obvious line of sight. Clearly, he did not realize that his colleague was lying down. "Mrs. Hughes, where are you?"

 

"I'm right here, Mr. Carson." Still resting quite comfortable on the floor, it seemed Mr. Carson was just as shocked at this set-up as William had been upon seeing the yoga mat in the first place. "Is everything alright?"

 

"I-" He didn't quite stutter, but he was certainly taken aback. "I have been told to inform you that Lavinia is recovering from the flu and that's why she was not in class today."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Carson, I appreciate your sharing that." She not only seemed to appreciate it, William would almost swear that Mrs. Hughes looked a bit amused by the matter. Though, why she'd be amused by a student's absence escaped him.

 

In any case, the tenor was definitely not appreciative or amused by this interruption. Rather, William now felt unexplainably mortified.

 

And, apparently, so did Mr. Carson.

 

"Yes, well, I'll leave you to it."

 

After the choir director left the room, the tenor could only stare at his teacher in bewilderment - not entirely positive he could handle it if someone were to watch in on him sprawled out on the floor like that. Because, even though Mrs. Hughes was lying far too gracefully to be seen as sprawled about, surely that wouldn't be the case for someone like him.

 

"So, are you ready to swap places?" Elsie asked after half a minute, looking as though she knew he wasn't necessarily invested in trying this out.

 

"Sure." It was absolutely tentative and definitely not convincing.

 

"Excellent!"

 

Still, it appeared to be that his choir teacher would take whatever she could get.

 

_._

 

**Friday, the 22nd of February, 2019**

 

It was one thing to consume ice cream for an evening and deal with all the consequences that came with it the next day.

 

It was quite another thing to wake up the following day after all of that and still feel as worn down - as though one had consumed pints of ice cream, instead of the little samples one actually did.

 

Still, for Charles Carson, this feeling of frustrating fatigue didn't matter - not when there were only about twenty-nine more days until their first competition.

 

_._

 

Beryl Patmore did not like to make a habit out of bumping into grouchy choir directors first thing in the morning.

 

However, when said grouchy choir directors also seemed to be in the middle of a coughing fit, she could make an exception.

 

"Can I do something for you, Mrs. Patmore?" It was far more of a rasp than normal, definitely indicating a sore throat. However, judging from how he was acting and from years of experience, it never helped to outright speak of concern to someone that obstinate.

 

Therefore, it seemed she would have to go about this a little differently than she would have, once upon a time.

 

"Well, I should probably be getting upstairs, but," The woman began, wracking her brain for any inspiration. "Since you're here…"

 

Luckily, inspiration came to her far sooner than she anticipated.

 

"I saw Mrs. Hughes yesterday afternoon," Beryl started up again, making sure to let her voice purposefully trail off in concern.

 

Well, mentioning that worked: he certainly gave her his full attention at the sound of Elsie's name. Glassy eyes were now squarely meeting hers - or, at least, as squarely as they could given the height distance.

 

"Oh?"

 

She gave him a second, pausing for dramatic effect and also because she needed to figure out just what she'd be saying next.

 

"Mr. Carson, I'm honestly worried about Elsie." And, she was concerned, it was true. It also just happened that she had a brilliant plan that would take care of both of her ridiculously stubborn friends. And that she was willing to bring up the questionable health of one friend if it meant the other friend might have to take care of themselves in the process.

 

"We're all worried," So, Beryl was not the only who noticed Elsie was under the weather. "But I don't think I can do anything about it."

 

"I think it would help if we took on some of her workload, maybe even cancelled some of the rehearsals today."

 

Mr. Carson sighed, quite understanding of the situation and yet finding that to be an unsatisfactory solution.

 

"I'm sure it would help, Mrs. Patmore," Nevertheless, he was still shaking in his head - unable to fully agree. "However, not only are we twenty-nine days away from our first competition, she would never agree to such a suggestion in the first place."

 

"Probably not," Beryl could agree with that, that's for sure. "But, maybe we can still do something."

 

"Yes, well, we'll just have to see about that." Still, before he could walk off towards the choir rooms, it seemed that Mr. Carson had one more thing to say. "Oh, and, Mrs. Patmore,"

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Please refrain from speaking of the matter." He paused for a moment, before solemnly continuing. "I would hate for her to think I don't trust her to help with the choirs just because she's not at her best."

 

"I won't say a word." And, this was something she could certainly promise.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes, are you quite alright?"

 

Elsie was sitting at her piano, having been blankly staring at her sheet music for who knows how long.

 

The problem was, Charles had been waiting for a response to his question for at least a minute by now.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

The teacher looked up from her sheet music, her cheeks flushing a bit even as the rest of her looked far too pale.

 

"My apologies, Mr. Carson. I lost myself in the notes."

 

She hadn't really. Rather, the world swayed a little bit, and she required a few seconds of concentration to focus.

 

Suffice to say, nobody in the room was convinced.

 

_._

 

"What is this, the Spanish Flu?" Sarah O'Brien muttered, looking at the downtrodden choir surrounding her. Yesterday, everyone seemed perfectly fine. Today, at least five people were missing and nearly everyone else seemed worn out.

 

"The Spanish Flu?" Rose asked confused, causing the alto to scoff in exasperation.

 

"Were you not paying attention when Mr. Meakins was explaining it? That lecture was only three days ago."

 

"Oh, I never pay attention to Mr. Meakins' lectures - he just goes on and on." Rose candidly replied, not deterred by Sarah's disdain in the slightest.

 

"I will kindly ask for everyone's concentration today." Mr. Carson announced from the front of the class, a little gruffer than normal. "Considering the fact that we are twenty-nine days away from our competition and only  _twenty_ of those days are to be spent rehearsing."

 

Everyone promptly shut up at that, not necessarily feeling the urgency but knowing better than to argue with Mr. Carson when he was in one of those moods.

 

In retrospect, it was a bit odd actually. See, Mr. Carson hadn't really been in this sort of mood since the start of the school year - all the way back in September. That's not to say that he hasn't been occasionally grouchy. Or, that on days of importance, it wasn't clear that he was the choir director.

 

But, strangely enough, the man really hadn't snapped at any of the choirs for most of the current school year. Rather, he'd been unusually understanding - and far more kinder when it came to his overall direction as well as instruction.

 

In any case, he wasn't the only teacher acting a bit off today: Mrs. Hughes was quietly sat at the piano, looking a little out of breath even though she hadn't moved a muscle this entire time. Normally, by now, she'd be bantering with her teacher or even some of the more audacious singers.

 

Yet, today it seemed that nothing was going quite right.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson, is everything alright?"

 

He'd been resting his head on his desk for what he'd thought was a brief moment.

 

But, if her tone were any guess, it had been much longer than a brief moment.

 

"I'm just feeling a little tired, Mrs. Hughes." Although he really felt all sorts of awful, it wouldn't do any good to concern her. Not when she was under the weather herself.

 

"'A little tired'?" However, Charles wasn't in the mood for that echo.

 

"And how are you today, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

She stopped in her tracks, not liking how that sounded.

 

"Perfectly fine, Mr. Carson."

 

_Well, that's the pot calling the kettle black._

 

Little did the pair know, they were both thinking the exact same thing.

 

And, worse still, there was someone all the way on the other side of the building who'd been thinking the exact same thing this entire time.

 

Now, why could that possibly be worse?

 

Well, that would be because - unlike Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes - Mrs. Patmore had every intention of addressing this hypocrisy.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," She hadn't shown up to rehearse privately in days, having refused to sign up for a solo rehearsal time slot for quite some time.

 

"Yes, Sarah?"

 

Had Sarah O'Brien been paying attention, she would have noticed that her choir teacher's voice was not at its full strength. That her body held traces of weariness that normally only showed up when illness was in the air.

 

As it happens, Sarah had not been paying attention. She had noticed all of that earlier in her peers and had made the same mistake many students do: she believed her teachers to be immune to all of it.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I was thinking that I'm not really ready for a solo." Or, rather, the alto couldn't really stand to look the woman in the face and rehearse with her one-on-one what with everything that happened.

 

"I see." But the choir teacher was in a bit of a fog at the moment, something very uncharacteristic when it came to any student interactions.

 

Something that Sarah O'Brien finally noticed.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" The choir teacher turned slightly, not really hearing her. "Mrs. Hughes, should I go find Mr. Carson?"

 

That broke through the fog.

 

"Oh, there's no need to do that." Not when he was already having his own illness to deal with. "No, I'll be quite alright. Though I am sad to hear you won't be continuing with a solo this year. Are you sure that's your final decision?"

 

"I'm sure." Just as sure as she was that she'd be looking for Mr. Carson the second she stepped out of the room. Sarah didn't necessarily care for Mrs. Hughes' attitude, but she was hardly the type of person to wish the woman this level of ill will - not when the choir teacher looked so out of it.

 

"Well, if you're sure." Elsie murmured, attempting to focus a tired gaze on the alto.

 

Yes, that decided it. Sarah knew what fire her teacher held when it came to convincing all students to give performing a shot. Seeing none of those sparks in her voice, catching none of those flames in her eyes, the alto was more than convinced that it would be quite necessary to find Mr. Carson.

 

There was just one problem, one that the younger singer discovered only after she had left 403:

 

It looked like Mr. Carson had left the floor for the time being.

 

And, after checking all of the practice rooms of the second fourth floor, there came another problem...

 

_._

 

Mary had come upstairs for solo practice only to discover two unpleasant surprises:

 

Both Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were nowhere in sight, and Sarah O'Brien of all people was determined to find them.

 

Certainly not good omens, that's for sure.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Drews?" Madalynn Thorn hadn't intended to be derailed in her journey to the main office. However, upon seeing a colleague wearily leaning on the railing of the stairs was certainly enough reason to delay. "Mrs. Drews, are you alright?"

 

It had to be that new teacher Mr. Carson hired back in the fall - Effie Drews, or some such equivalent. She was the only person who'd have reason to be on the second fourth floor other than the choir director himself.

 

"Beryl?"

 

"No, I am not this 'Beryl', I am-" However, seeing the woman sway in a manner that did not speak of good health ceased any instinctual corrections. "Mrs. Drews, where are you trying to go?"

 

"Oh I am sorry. I thought you were someone else." Then the English teacher's latest question was processed. "I was intending to go to 444."

 

Madalynn gave a sharp look at this, wondering how on Earth Mrs. Drews could think of such an idea. 444 was on the opposite side of the building, and the woman before her hardly looked like she could make it down another flight.

 

"444? Wouldn't the nurse's office be more preferable?" The teacher quickly shook her head, seeming to pale further at the thought. "You do seem to be under the weather."

 

"I'm quite alright, I can assure you." However, the woman's pallor combined with disturbingly splotchy cheeks and a disconcertingly drained stare said otherwise.

 

"Oh, yes, you've definitely convinced me of that." Madalynn had spoken with what could only be classified as a sarcastic drawl. Yet, Madalynn was already climbing up the stairs in an effort to help her colleague get to her destination - having no idea just why she was helping this woman, even as she did so.

 

_._

 

"Elsie?" The band director was caught off guard, clearly not expecting her friend to visit her with all the solo rehearsals going on - and certainly not with a stranger. She had also not been expecting to be greeted with such a bewildered expression or eyes quite that unfocused. "Is everything alright?"

 

"Beryl?" It was as though the woman before her had no recollection of how she ended up in the band room - shaking her head as though she were trying to clear some sort of cloud. Elsie looked a little woozy even, not quite swaying but not quite staying still.

 

"Beryl, I presume?" Mrs. Patmore didn't care a bit for any witticisms at the moment.

 

"Elsie, do me a favor and - actually, can you help me sit her down?" The band director shouldn't have bothered asking, seeing as how the stranger was already helping her guide their worn-out colleague to the nearest chair. And, yes, Elsie's temperature did seem to be warmer than normal - definitely not a good sign.

 

"Beryl," The rest of the murmur was nearly lost to the teachers, only caught by years of habit. "Why's it so chilly in the band room? For that matter, why is it so bright for once?"

 

Elsie wasn't one to get cold and if she did, she always shook it off. Moreover, the classroom was as bright as it normally was - which meant that a certain someone was probably feeling unusually sensitive to light and would be getting a headache soon.

 

"Alright, that's it." This cryptic statement woke up the woman, even though there was still a muddled quality to her eyes that Beryl did not like in the slightest. "You're going to home."

 

"I can't do that, Beryl. The students need me and I can't let Emma win." It seemed Elsie was working under the belief that Mrs. Butte was still at Downton - something that hadn't been true for quite some time and only served to further concern the band director.

 

Though, after working with Mr. Carson for years and having Elsie as her friend for decades, Beryl knew better than to outright say that.

 

"You know what? Tell me later."

 

"'kay." Well, the casual vernacular was definitely not helping to keep the bubbling hysteria away.

 

The band director looked up at their other unexpected guest, having forgotten of her existence and still not being able to place the woman's name.

 

"Thank you for helping bring her to me. I'll take it from here." The stranger didn't look particularly pleased to be dismissed just yet, but she did take her leave. In any case, Beryl hardly took offense to the disdain - she knew that Elsie would not want anyone to witness her in such a state.

 

And furthermore, being in such a state meant that the choir teacher really needed to rest. Something that wouldn't happen if strangers were nearby or if she stayed here.

 

Therefore, there was only one solution for it.

 

Fishing out her phone, the band director kept a calming hand on her friend - in an effort to keep the choir teacher upright and in her chair. It seemed like Elsie was experiencing some sort of lightheadedness or something, not getting or giving herself any breaks in regards to her symptoms.

 

_Now, who does that sound like?_

 

Fortunately, the band director could speed dial  _and_  kill two birds with one stone.

 

"Mr. Carson?" Beryl noticed Elsie straighten up a bit at the name, apparently still conscious enough to recognize it.

 

_"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?"_ If he's surprised at her calling, his voice doesn't show it. Though, just because he's not showing surprise doesn't mean he can hide the fact that it sounds as though he'd just finished a coughing fit. Nor does it mean he can disguise the weariness weighing down his voice.

 

"Mr. Carson, we have a problem." She turned away from the phone to face Elsie, who was trying her best to remain upright and look as though she were in perfect health. "And you're staying with me tonight, make no mistake."

 

The choir teacher hardly had any sort of reaction, possibly unaware the remark was even made, while Mr. Carson spluttered over the phone.

 

_"What did you say, Mrs. Patmore?"_

 

"Oh, I was hardly talking to you."

 

_"Is Mrs. Hughes there? Did you figure out a way to help her take it easy?"_

 

"I did indeed. And, because of it she will have to leave early today." "Is that Charles, Beryl?"

 

_"Mrs. Patmore, what is going on? Do I need to be concerned?"_

 

"Not quite. What you need to do is pick up chicken noodle soup, flu medicine, Throat Coat, and bring all of that over to my place. And then," She lowered her voice, not taking any chances and also wanting to convince the choir director that her focus was solely on Elsie. "You are to help me make sure that a certain someone takes all of that."

 

" _... I see."_

 

"I'll see you at five o'clock then?"

 

_"You will indeed."_

 

"Perfect. See you then, Mr. Carson."

 

Quickly hanging up before he had a chance to say anything else, the band director turned back to her friend to initiate the second part of her somewhat devious - if not very well-meaning - plan.

 

Go figure that it looked like Elsie was now coming back to the land of the cognizant.

 

"Beryl, I hardly think this is necessary-"

 

"How else am I'm going to get him to take a break as well? He'd hardly do it on his own. But if he thinks it'd help you, he'd take care of himself in a heartbeat."

 

"What?" Elsie was bewildered, to say the least. But, Beryl wasn't going to properly explain herself, not this time.

 

"Now, you're coming with me." Because they only had so much time before the lunch periods were over - and it would be far faster this way.

 

"I am?" Clearly the woman was exhausted beyond belief if she was still questioning her friend.

 

"You are." Beryl took a step forward, carefully pulling the choir teacher out of the chair with surprising ease. "And you're not going to do anything tomorrow."

 

"Beryl, I can't afford to miss class when the first competition is only-"

 

"Elsie, you do realize that tomorrow is Saturday, right?"

 

"Oh," As the woman began to piece together just what was being said, her friend began to not-so-gently guide her out of the room. "I forgot that."

 

"I couldn't tell." The band director quipped over her growing worry. Elsie was truly far too warm to the touch to be in good health, and that wasn't the only problem. So, the sooner she could have a proper lie-down, the better.

 

And, really, they were quite lucky this was happening in the middle of the lunch periods. It meant Beryl would have more than enough time to set-up Elsie at her place - even though she'd still probably have to take the car back to school to get back in time.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson, where is Mrs. Hughes?" Claire Morris had seen the woman earlier in the halls, and knew that she had been on-campus earlier today.

 

"Mrs. Hughes has fallen ill," The choir director explained, hoping that the girls would still focus. "Therefore, I'll be running today's rehearsal."

 

Well, judging from their looks, that did not cheer them up immensely.

 

_._

 

Sybil Crawley did not make a habit of running to the grocery store to pick up last minute errands for her mother.

 

She also didn't make a habit out of nearly colliding into her choir director.

 

"Mr. Carson, is everything alright?" The man seemed far more harried than normal, his trolley containing quite a lot of medicine, Throat Coat tea, containers of chicken noodle soup, amongst other things.

 

"Everything's perfectly fine," Well, Sybil may not be the best actress in the family, but she could certainly spot a lie - especially one coming from Mr. Carson. "I'm just picking up some supplies for Mrs- a friend who's under the weather."

 

She nodded, letting him continue on his quest for flu medicine. But, not before giving him one final remark.

 

"Please, give my regards to Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson!" The man nodded, belatedly realizing that he'd given away the name of his friend. Still, luckily for Sybil, when Mr. Carson finally turned around again, he didn't lecture her on propriety or any equivalent.

 

In fact, he only had two words for her:

 

"I will."

 

Truly, she wouldn't ever be mentioning the matter to Edith, Mary, or Tom. Not only did that feel like it was the last thing Mr. Carson wanted, it also meant that she was the only one who knew of this interaction.

 

And, for once, Sybil wanted to be the one who had a secret.

 

_._

 

Charles had only been invited to Mrs. Patmore's house once before. However, it had been a very, very long time ago and it was for a reason he could no longer remember.

 

Funnily enough, the only thing he did remember about it was that he had turned down the invitation - having cited illness or some other inane excuse to avoid socialization. Social gatherings of any kind were not normally his cup of tea, not holding his interest unless there was some sort of purpose behind them. Which, of course, there seldom was.

 

Well, now, let it be known that he was willingly entering Mrs. Patmore's humble abode  _because_ of illness. Not his own, of course, but still - the irony was not lost on him in any case.

 

Of course, irony and all other thoughts vacated his mind the second he opened the unlocked door and caught sight of her finally giving her body a rest. Upon witnessing the state she was in, he immediately sped all groceries over to the lounge area.

 

"Mr. Carson, what on Earth are you doing here?" The croaky whisper from the corner did not serve to intimidate him in the slightest. Rather, it only prompted him to join Elsie at the couch she currently resided.

 

"I came here to check on you, of course."

 

And, now that he was here, he was frustrated to say that he could see clear effects of the flu. Elsie looked to be close to burning up, her eyes rather glazed over, her hair an absolute mess as she remained curled up in her spot. She looked beyond exhausted, curled up on Beryl's only couch as though it were the one most important thing in the world.

 

Second to the man now standing in front of her, of course.

 

Without a second thought, he began to brush some stray strands out of her face - relieved that she was resting - even if the fact that she had to rest was indeed disconcerting.

 

"It's not the Spanish Flu, I promise." Elsie joked, her voice containing the usual groggy quality that came with illness and then some. Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her teasing remark, choosing to focus on how beautiful she looked in this moment. For there was indeed a beauty to the unguarded nature that her demeanor held. A beauty that-

 

"No flirting with the patient, mister." Mrs. Patmore - or, rather, Nurse Patmore for the evening - made her way over from the kitchen, now arming herself with the recently purchased supplies. "Same goes for you, young lady."

 

"'Young lady'?" Elsie chorused disbelievingly, causing two sets of varying glares to be sent in her direction.

 

"That's right!" "She's right, you know."

 

"And for that matter," Beryl suddenly remembered one of the main reasons she'd invited the choir director over. "I do believe you also have some medicine to take, young man!"

 

"Medicine?" But, the more important part: "'Young man'?" Incredulity was an understatement, that's for sure.

 

"She's right, you know." Elsie tiredly snarked, unable to help herself.

 

For such sass at a time like this, she got quite the cutting look from the choir director in question.

 

Still, cutting look or no, the effect was ruined by the fact that Charles was soon overtaken by a cough.

 

"You were saying?"

 

_._

 

It was only after Beryl had stepped out to pick up some more flu medicine - amongst other groceries - that Charles felt brave enough to readjust his spot in the lounge.

 

Originally, he'd been every bit the gentleman by maintaining a proper distance and sitting in the armchair next to the couch - not wanting to cross any boundaries whilst at Mrs. Patmore's house. However, after quite a fair amount of internal debate, Charles found himself wanting to make what he hoped was a simple request - something that could possibly help Elsie even more so than the medicine or having a lie-down.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," She couldn't lift her head or turn to properly look at him, the flu medicine and exhaustion pinning her to the couch, but she was curious all the same.

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Might I make an adjustment to our current seating arrangement? I have an idea that I think will prove to be far more comfortable."

 

"Go on," She found herself encouraging him, eyes still closed as she continued to drift off into sleep.

 

Though, naturally, once he began to lift the pillow her head was resting on, blue eyes immediately opened in confusion.

 

He gave her a moment to object to this adjustment, to demand that he desist in his actions. However, she made no protest of the sort. Instead, a trusting and tired gaze met his as a nod - sleepy as it may have been - gave consent.

 

As Charles began to seat himself on the couch - letting the pillow and her head now rest on top of his lap - he could feel her heartbeat match his own at the rapid pace of  _andante moderato_. Well, the tempo did make sense: never before had they been in quite this proximity, never had they quite shared any space in such a manner.

 

The music library moments, sharing a dinner in 403, enjoying ice cream - those were all one type of affection that was restricted by distance and other factors.

 

This was a different type of intimacy altogether.

 

Though, different it certainly was, it was also proving to be quite an improvement.

 

"Of course, you do realize Beryl will  _never_  stop teasing us about this when she comes back," It was an unsteady mumble, one that was made even more endearing by her unusually apparent accent.

 

"I do. However, I find I don't particularly mind." Charles had hardly had a chance to spend anytime with her this week. At least, not any time that wasn't spent teaching or handling old acquaintances. Still, because of this lack of time spent together, he wanted to treasure every moment he could - something that wouldn't happen if he allowed Beryl or anyone else to dictate his actions.

 

"Oh?" Elsie's eyes cracked open once more, and he could already see the gears whirring to life in her brain as she tried to figure out just what he meant by that.

 

Well, that wouldn't be conducive to recovery, now would it?

 

"Indeed," But, before she could formulate another response to his murmur, his hands were already starting to gently massage her head and turn her thoughts into mush.

 

"Oh," She groggily murmured, absolutely distracted. "I see."

 

He could only warmly smile, pleased that this was apparently helping.

 

Head massages, in the opinion of one Charles Carson, were not necessarily inappropriate actions or a form of risqué conduct, per se. Frankly, it depended on the situation. And, currently, seeing as how she was already far more relaxed in this moment than she'd been all evening, he considered it to be more of an act of service than anything else.

 

"What were we talking about?" Charles lightly chuckled at the foggy tone, relieved that Elsie was conceding for the night. He knew that she could easily focus on the subject at hand if she truly wanted to. And, by letting her voice be riddled with a languorous quality, allowing her eyelids to softly lower - all the while maintaining steady breaths - she showed him that she was willing to let everything go for now and trust him.

 

"I believe we weren't." He got a halfhearted eye-roll for that, a content smile still blending into her sleepy face.

 

Suffice to say, the flu medicine and head massage were clearly working.

 

Which meant it was time to nudge her towards the next part of recovery: actually getting rest.

 

"Right. Now, I do believe it's time for bed."

 

Elsie pouted a bit, uncharacteristically put out by the suggestion.

 

"But, I want to spend time with you." It was the most childish attitude her voice had ever taken on, and he couldn't help but shake his head in fondness at the sound.

 

"I'm not leaving anytime soon." Charles then proceeded to prove his point by placing a soft kiss on her forehead and tenderly take hold of one of her hands, delighted to watch her face light up at the loving actions - a beautiful smile once more reaching her lips. "I do believe you're stuck with me."

 

"Good." She drowsily spoke, too tired for anything other than honesty. "I want to be stuck with you."

 

He couldn't help but grin in delight, quite touched as he realized just how true that statement also was for him.

 

"Me, too." She hummed in approval, getting closer to sleep but still determined to enjoy this. "But, I'm afraid we won't be able to properly spend any time together if we're both not at our best."

 

After all, they still had two competitions, two showcases, and one concert to make it through. Not to mention their other fundraising efforts, amongst other things. And, he had high doubts that Emma was going to leave them alone - even now when she was officially gone from Downton.

 

So, if they were going to manage any of those storms together, they'd both have to be at their best.

 

And, perhaps it was because of all of the above that he was allowing himself to do exactly what he wanted for once. Perhaps, because of how exhausted Elsie was now showing herself to be - an exhaustion he couldn't possibly imagine - he felt they deserved to have this moment.

 

"Being at our best includes you taking care of yourself," Elsie mumbled, very nearly passed out and still remembering that he still hadn't taken any of his own medicine that Beryl had set aside just for him.

 

"I suppose it does." He conceded, prompting a light snort of exasperation. However, the head massage had worked too well for her to properly argue the point, let alone concentrate on staying awake.

 

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't give her one last head massage to help.

 

Much to Charles' relief, it wasn't too long before Elsie fell asleep on him. He, too, found himself soon yielding to the rest his body craved after everything that'd occurred - sinking into a deep sleep not long after her. And with her head resting on the pillow while his hand still gently grasped hers, they made for quite an endearing sight.

 

So endearing was the sight that Beryl had absolutely no qualms about snapping a quick photo when she finally came back from her late-night errands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case the clarification is wanted or needed, Madalynn Thorn did indeed find Mrs. Hughes on the stairs. The only reason she refers to her as Mrs. Drews is because Madalynn Thorn is a goofball who doesn't realize that Effie Drews is not Elsie's name.
> 
> Also, is it terribly ironic that as I'm posting this - a chapter I've been planning for a few weeks - I've just caught some sort of flu/virus thing? I personally think so!
> 
> Oh, and, Irn-Bru is a fantastic drink I got to sample whilst in Scotland - it's probably the only soft/fizzy drink I will go out of my way to enjoy.
> 
> And, finally, I'm so pleased to say we have officially crossed the 100K mark for the story - and what a sweet note to do it on, too!


	18. Pounds and Plots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original Author's Note):
> 
> My apologies for the delay and the lack of length - this last week and this flu has taken more energy than I anticipated. Because of that, I will be responding to all reviews later - for guest reviews, they'll be featured in the next chapter and for all the others, I'll try to respond as soon as I can. Furthermore, this next chapter will probably come out closer to Thursday or Friday.
> 
> Also, I must admit I didn't realize how much I enjoy having official dates in the story. Therefore, even though it's not always going to be a full week's worth of chapters I am going to continue dating the chapters (to make a terrible/hilarious pun, these are the most dates I've ever had - *Ba dum tss!*).
> 
> And finally! My American goofball self apparently forgot that they're not called cookies in the UK - they're called biscuits! A thousand apologies - the slip-up in the bake-sale chapter has been corrected. In any case, allow me to present to you the next installment of this story.

**Monday, the 25th of February, 2019**

_**Are you sure you should be returning so soon? - BP** _

 

With the flu still taking its toll on everyone, Elsie understood where her friend was coming from.

 

However, they couldn't let something like the flu take away the necessary rehearsal time still left.

 

_._

 

It was both a comfort and a vexation to discover the email waiting for him at the start of the school week.

 

A comfort because he had been eager to finally let go of this problem.

 

A vexation because its implications were troublesome to say the least. And with his own recovery still in progress, such implications would surely hinder that progress.

 

_._

 

_**Mr. Carson,** _

 

_**I wanted to reach out and let you know that I did finally recover from my fall. And, in regards to what I shall be doing for the rest of the semester, I am also pleased to inform you I have been fortunate to be offered a post at Carlisle Institute for Fine Arts. Ironically, the assistant head of the voice studies department recently fell far too ill to efficiently work within the department.** _

 

_**Therefore, I do not require the kind offer that The Center was providing. Furthermore, seeing as how the choirs were being run so smoothly this previous semester, I'm also quite sure my assistance will not be required in the coming days.** _

 

_**As such, it is with great sadness that I say farewell to you and the choirs of Downton Academy. Naturally, I wish you and Ms. Hughes the very best of luck when it comes to your choral endeavours. Also, please, pass on my regards to the administration when you inform them that I will not be able to perform that faculty solo for the Downton showcase.** _

 

_**With All Sincerity,** _

_**Emma Butte** _

 

**_._**

 

"So that's it." Elsie was a bit shocked that this was how it was all coming to an end with that woman. She also was surprised that Emma had the audacity to find a job with their rival school - it felt a little too vindictive to be a coincidence.

 

"That's it."

 

Without any hesitation, Charles deleted the email - further shocking his companion. However, he then went into his "Trash" section, bringing it back into his "Inbox" - reassuring her that he had not in fact temporarily taken leave of all his senses.

 

In any case, the second the school term ended, they both knew he'd be properly deleting it.

 

_._

 

"Gentlemen," Andy looked up from his music, recognizing that tone to be one of great importance."I have an announcement I'd like to make in regards to the staff."

 

At the sound of this, dozens of the Bass Choir sat up - knowing that this could only mean one thing. The tenor himself quickly scanned the room and found Mrs. Hughes to be in the corner, just as he'd hoped. And, seeing as how Mrs. Butte was nowhere to be found, he could just dare to continue hoping that he knew just what this announcement was going to be about.

 

_._

 

" _Hovering there, I've chased_

_The shouting winds along,"_

 

There seemed to be a vivacious energy flooding the tone of the Bel Canto singers today - one that raised the quality and tone of the choir simply by existing.

 

" _And flung my eager craft,_

_Through footless halls of"_

 

With a flurry of renewed forced, the young women charged through one of the hardest chords in the song - breathing a sense of purpose into the section.

 

" _Air!"_

 

Elsie had them sustain the chord longer than normal, basking in the fact that all of them looked and sounded as carefree as the song - as though a great burden had been lifted and they were now allowed to take to the musical skies.

 

Truly, Emma's absence - as stressful as the incident had been - seemed to be for the best.

 

_._

 

"I can't believe she's actually gone," Whispers of gossip was already running through the room, seeping into every crevice. It seemed even the Concert Choir was struck by such rumours, unable to refrain from focusing on the competitions on the horizon.

 

By this point, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had decidedly less patience in regards to informing the students - having already told two class periods today.

 

"I'll ask you all not to gossip about a former staff member of Downton," Charles sternly reprimanded them - if only due to the principle of the matter.

 

"'Former' staff member?" Thomas innocently piped up from the baritone section, clinging onto that particular word.

 

"That is correct, Thomas," Elsie stepped in - knowing the choir director would not respond nearly as kindly as she. "Mrs. Butte is no longer a member of the staff at Downton Academy."

 

Seriously, if the Advanced Mixed Choir was grinning from ear to ear at the sound of such official news, it was a wonder the other choirs hadn't been cheering in their seats upon hearing the announcement.

 

_._

 

"But will we ever have to see her again, Mrs. Hughes?" Isabel Johnson boldly asked, unofficially speaking on behalf of the Treble Choir as she posed this question.

 

Mr. Carson seemed to want to splutter at such audacity, but Mrs. Hughes looked to be taking the matter in stride.

 

"While I cannot promise you'll never see her again, I can say that she is not returning to Downton."

 

The unspoken, "ever", rang as clearly and as beautifully as a seventh-dominant chord - informing every young lady that Mrs. Hughes was being dead serious.

 

_._

 

**Tuesday, the 26th of February, 2019**

 

Upon discovering that the room was empty, Mary felt it rather prudent to give her teacher's suggestion a shot - if only for a minute.

 

Standing against the wall, she adjusted her feet and posture to mirror that of a soloist ready to perform.

 

" _Dies Augenzelt"_

 

She had already warmed up when traveling up the stairs. Now it was a matter of staying relaxed and not letting this foolish exercise convince her to give up.

 

" _Von deinem Glanz,"_ The notes steadily continued to rise, as she prepared herself to follow through with what Mrs. Hughes had advised.

 

" _Allein erhellt,"_ Her voice crescendoing in both volume and range, Mary began to - for lack of a better word - swiftly bring herself into a squatting position.

 

The clarity, the feeling of her muscles as she truly engaged with her core and diaphragm was far beyond astonishing. Shock reverberated through her as, even with her years of solo training, she'd not quite experienced anything like  _that_.

 

"Isn't it wonderful when you trust the instruction of your teachers?"

 

How long Mrs. Hughes had been standing there, she did not know. All that the younger soprano did know is that 1) she was still squatting and 2) she proved her teacher right in this regard.

 

All in all, it was turning into quite the rehearsal and they hadn't even officially started.

 

_._

 

"No yoga mat today, Mrs. Hughes?" William asked, peering around the piano as though the object in question would suddenly materialize.

 

"No yoga mat today," She remarked, a little amused by his endearing hesitation. "Today, we're going to work keeping your hands still."

 

"You noticed that, did you?" He sheepishly retreated within himself, embarrassed with all of the flaws.

 

"I did. And now that you're singing the song so well, I think it's time we can get nitpicky." It was the closest she could to complimenting him in the moment, and it looked like he actually heard it - judging from the faint smile he now carried.

 

"What would you like me to do, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"I'd like you to place your hands on the music stand - no music to look at, mind, you know your song too well to require that - the entire time you sing."

 

"The entire time?" Elsie resisted the urge to chuckle at the echo, just pleased that he was already doing as she requested.

 

"The entire time."

_._

**Wednesday, the 27th of February, 2019**

 

"So, now that March is almost upon us, I think it's time we discussed what the grand total for fundraising this month was. What do you think, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Elsie had been waiting for quite some time to inform him of the total amount, having spent quite a few hours checking and double-checking the numbers whenever she could. What with all of the extra rehearsals commencing, to prepare for the competitions, it was quite necessary to forego any of those conversations for the time being. However, now they could breathe and actually discuss such matters.

 

"Oh no, Mr. Carson, I won't give you the grand total." Charles looked dismayed, wondering how on Earth they could do that badly that she wouldn't just tell him outright how much money they'd made. "I'm afraid I'll have to build suspense by informing you of the total for each fundraising event you put me in charge of."

 

The choir director silently nodded, not necessarily caring for the suspense and simultaneously hoping that they at least got £2,500 out of everything. £2,500 wouldn't be enough to get them abroad, but it should be enough to treat the choir to a trip to the continent.

 

"Starting with what made the least amount of money, with eight requests for Valentine's Day phone calls we made £120."

 

Alright. Now that the bar was set, he knew they could only rise in the amount from here.

 

"From the fifteen Valentine's Day live requests, we made £375." The woman faintly smiled, noting how her colleague seemed to be focus on taking any and all news as well as he could. With a total of £495, they were off to a decent start. Still, it was hardly enough to get out of Yorkshire, let alone the country.

 

"And how many video requests were there in total?" Clearly, even with the patience he'd been exercising, Mr. Carson was now only in the mood to hear the coda of their efforts. After all, from counting the hard copies alone, he knew that they had to have gotten at least fifty requests from the students.

 

Elsie met his gaze, biting her lip - if only to keep from smiling.

 

"With 132 video requests, we made £2,640." Charles gaped, having not anticipated such a jump in numbers. Seeing as how only eighty students or so submitted requests, with about twenty requests coming from the faculty, that implied that many of those remaining requests came from advertising their cause on the internet.

 

Suffice to say, the choir director was stunned when he realized how much their social media efforts were helping them.

 

"I'm sorry; could you repeat that, Mrs. Hughes?" She outright grinned at this, very pleased to have shocked him.

 

"£2,640 pounds. Which altogether brings us to £4,013 - if we include the Go Fund Me." The numbers were a little dizzying in their power - absolutely exceeding the expectations and certainly giving both teachers cause to feel a little unsteady. Still, this unsteadiness was soon rectified by two things: her happily reaching out to hold his hand, and her asking one more question.

 

"So, Mr. Carson," Elsie had seen a bit of the numbers from being a part of bake-sale, but he was officially in charge of the money for that. "How much did we make with the bake-sale?"

 

Now it was his turn to surprise her.

 

"Well, Mrs. Hughes, I will say that the biscuits were more successful. However, both were fairly successful." If she were to tease him in such a fashion, it was only fair for him to do the same - especially now that he was in the mood for such playful frivolity. "Yes, I do believe we did make a tidy sum overall."

 

Elsie sent a him look, silently informing him that she'd be humouring him for only a few more witticisms before he'd have to tell her what the bake-sale made.

 

"I see. And just what was that 'tidy sum', Mr. Carson?"

 

With the number absolutely ingrained in memory, it was only for dramatic effect that the man paused.

 

"I do believe that it was something along the lines of," She rolled her eyes, knowing fully well that he had the final number memorized. "£1,655.50. Of course, this was after our helpers received their deserved portion."

 

"Oh, Mr. Carson!" Elsie's voice delightedly spoke his name at least one octave higher than normal, unwilling to contain itself as the woman took out her calculator to do the math. "That brings our total up to £5,668.50!"

 

"And with the solo showcase in April, as well as our continuing social media efforts, I do believe that we can officially make a go of this." Charles proudly stated, rather taken with the fact that they were only a month into the process.

 

"Certainly we can!"

 

"Now, I can only assume that you already have a few competitions in mind?" She shot him a look, reminding him of how he wasn't supposed to ask questions he already knew the answer to. "Right."

 

"There's three American competitions in particular that I'd been looking into. One will be in late July - in Nashville, specifically. And the other two are in early August - and will be taking place in Chicago and Los Angeles."

 

Well, if only based on timing, it looked like the August competitions were the best. But, it was too soon to make any decisions: they did not have enough money yet, the competitions themselves would have to be heavily researched, and the additional costs of going abroad would have to be re-examined.

 

"My question is, when do we tell the students?" Unfortunately, her question had him think of one other - an inquiry he'd unintentionally forgetting to make.

 

"That's not the only thing we need to tell the students." Charles unhappily brought the mood down the more he thought about it. "When do we tell them about where the first competition is?"

 

"You mean," Elsie began to supply, her own excitement dying down as she was brought back to Earth. "When do we inform the choirs that we will be going to compete at Carlisle Institute? Because, even if they don't know that's where Mrs. Butte will be working, they do know that Carlisle Institute is our rival school?"

 

"Exactly."

 

She sighed after a moment, all enjoyment leaving the room for a moment.

 

"That is an excellent question."

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 28th of February, 2019**

 

"Emma," Phoebe had been rather pleased that her friend would be joining Carlisle Institute - having sung together in previous choral experiences. That as well as any advantage above the other schools was definitely appreciated - and having Emma Butte teach, as strict as she could be, was quite an advantage. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

 

The woman in question sent her friend a sharp glare, relentlessly holding the papers in her hand.

 

"If you mean I'm sure that it's quite necessary to prove how incompetent some of the choirs of United Kingdom truly are," She couldn't mention the specific one by name, not when she was still under contract. "Then I'm afraid my answer will have to be yes."

 

"Surely, there's a better way to do that than this," Phoebe put the question to her, grasping her reasoning and still finding it too childish to be suited for an academy like Carlisle's. "Why risk implementing a gambit like this when you're just getting started here?"

 

While there was a grain of truth in those beliefs about Carlisle's ruthless attitude - after all, Phoebe recognized that institutions didn't go very far when they allowed their ambitions to be dampened by kindness - even this institution prided itself on some version of fairness. Or rather, to go about managing a competition in such a fashion - dramatically adding in last minute, unfair requirements of the participants - will only serve to drag the institution's reputation through the mud.

 

"A message has to be sent." Phoebe internally sighed at such a melodramatic phrase, finding it to be tacky to say the least. "To inform the other academies that this sort of treatment - firing someone of my calibre - will not be tolerated."

 

_Well, one thing's for certain,_ the woman thought darkly to herself,  _when this "message" fails I will not be taking the blame._

 

She did not pull strings to get her friend into the assistant director position, if only to have the woman sabotage her own career because of some foolish revenge "scheme". There were certainly bigger priorities that Phoebe had for her choirs,

 

"I understand," Phoebe did, she just didn't think Emma was looking at the bigger picture.

 

"I knew I could count on you."

 

"Of course," She said, holding out a hand to receive those papers. "And I'll be sure to take care of those requests for the additional requirements."

 

Emma smiled, all too happy to hand over the official forms.

 

Little did she know, taking of the requests did not at all imply that Phoebe was actually going to submit them.


	19. Changing Times and Timing Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19 Author Note: 
> 
> Hello! I did not mean to neglect updating this story here. Nevertheless, I unintentionally did.
> 
> Therefore, I will be posting and updating all of the chapters from 19-25 today. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
> 
> Original Author's Note:  
> Not only has this last week been chaotic, there's been some incredibly intolerable stuff occurring in my community lately. I'm still absolutely planning on maintaining this story, I just can't step aside when this sort of stuff is occurring.
> 
> Also, to all my non-guest reviewers, I will be properly responding to you all the moment I can!

_**Friday, the 1st of March, 2019** _

"Mr. Carson, did you get  _any_  sleep last night?" Elsie was surprised to see how worn out her colleague looked and, worse still, the school day had yet to start. However, Charles didn't look to be in a place where he could give her a simple response. Instead, he looked to be trapped in whatever had stolen away his sleep.

 

"Do you remember those nightmares I mentioned?"

 

"You mean, the ones where something is going wrong with the sta-" He held up a hand, unable to hear the full sentence - quite possibly in fear that it would come true if uttered.

 

"Yes. Those nightmares." She nodded, giving him a spacious silence that would allow for an answer whenever he felt he could speak. "Well, Mrs. Hughes, for a few weeks they had vanished. But as of last night, it seems I'm still to remain in their clutches."

 

It was a little overdramatic, causing Elsie's lip to twitch in amusement even as her eyes reflected the concern she felt.

 

"I see."

 

As they fell back into silence, she gave him a few moments to collect himself before springing a suggestion on the situation.

 

"Would you like to go downstairs and double-check the condition of the area in question?" If he couldn't stand to hear the auditorium specifically mentioned, she wouldn't verbalize it just yet - even if the woman did believe that they were only nightmares and nothing more. "Class won't start for another twenty-five minutes."

 

"I already checked this morning upon my arrival." Charles spoke with what he'd hoped to be a reassuring, though appreciation radiated through his tone. "However, I am not opposed to the suggestion."

 

Elsie turned towards the door if only so her companion didn't catch the upwards glance of faint amusement she had for his words.

 

"My, my," She murmured to herself, as she began to lead them towards the closer of the two stairwells. "How things have changed."

 

Once upon a time, her suggestions would have summoned forth enough opposition to maintain a fortnight of stubbornness. Now, it seemed that her colleague was of a far more amiable mood in that regard.

 

Oh, how the times have changed.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson," Andrew Parker stood before the choir director, having stayed behind class on his own accord.

 

"Yes, Andrew?"

 

The tenor stayed quiet for a moment before steeling himself.

 

"I know class registration already ended, but I was wondering if I could continue with choir next year?"

 

It had initially disheartened the choir director that Andy hadn't signed up to take at least the Bass Choir again, if not asking about auditions for the Concert Choir. However, knowing what the situation had been for the tenor this past semester, Charles couldn't fault him for not wanting to continue with his music studies.

 

Still, now that Andy was requesting this - even though it had been a few weeks after the registration deadline and Mr. Carson did not normally make exceptions to these rules - the teacher found himself willing to give the matter thorough consideration.

 

Of course, that consideration did include asking what prompted this change.

 

"Andrew," The tenor drew himself up in height, prepared for anything. "Is there any particular reason why?"

 

The younger singer didn't speak for a few seconds, his eyes glancing to the floor in an effort to find the right words. When trying to find the right words didn't seem to work, Andy settled for the first answer that came to mind.

 

"I really like singing, Mr. Carson." The tenor admitted. "And I like it enough I realized I want to continue."

 

Charles slowly nodded, calmly taking in the reasoning and finding himself rather proud of the younger singer for doing this when he could have easily not said anything at all.

 

"I can make no promises." The choir director informed him, "But I will inquire."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." Andy made to leave, but there was still one more question his teacher had for him.

 

"Andrew,"

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Which choir were you hoping to register for?" A small, hesitant smile appeared at this - its childlike energy reminding the choir director just how young the tenor was.

 

"The Concert Choir, Mr. Carson." Andy shyly confessed, "I thought I should try for the Concert Choir."

 

Charles nodded once more, feeling even more pride over the fact that Andy wasn't going to dismiss his potential - even with everything going on.

 

"Well, I really can't make any promises." He reminded the student, maintaining a warning tone even as he started to mentally review the administrators he'd have to contact about this. "But, I can see what's possible."

 

"That's all I ask, Mr. Carson."

 

_._

 

"Students," They decided that - to honor the fact that Elsie was the one who had originally approved the idea - she would get the pleasure of making this announcement. "We have an update in regards to fundraising."

 

Immediately, all eyes were focused on her.

 

_._

 

Had you informed Madalynn Thorn that that most dignified choir in all of Downton Academy would be making such incorrigibly piercing squeals and unnecessarily deafening cheers as the ones currently being emitted, she would have declared you to be utterly unaware of reality. Furthermore, she would have that this would never be the case so long as Charles Carson were the choir director of this fine institution.

 

Well, as of 9:53 A.M., it looked to be that Madalynn Thorn would be wrong in this regard.

 

At least, she would be wrong for the next three minutes.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 7th of March, 2019**

 

" _Keep holding on,_

_You'll make it."_

 

The Treble Choir was building momentum, the gorgeous  _a cappella_ chords coming together so nicely after weeks of work.

 

" _Look for me, reaching out to show_

_As sure as rivers flow."_

 

As the second sopranos took the lead with the melody, all the other parts spurred into action: embracing the gorgeous notes waiting for them.

 

" _I'll never let you go."_

 

Quite an improvement from where they were about six months ago, Elsie could only feel pride as she witnessed her young ladies take charge of the song.

 

" _I'll never let you go."_

 

However, there was something missing. Something that was becoming more apparent as they drew closer to the end of the song.

 

" _I'll never let_

_You"_

 

Elsie kept her ears opened to all the voices before her, closing as her eyes as she focused on detecting what was off.

 

" _Go."_

 

Holding out all of their respective notes, the young ladies finished their song with faint smiles. Except, something was still off with the ending - the Treble Choir was not quite excelling and reaching their full potential.

 

"Ladies, we're still not getting the tag right."

 

"The 'tag', Mrs. Hughes?" She mentally sighed, having unwittingly given the young ladies more barbershop terms than she meant to.

 

It wasn't a problem, not really. It just meant that they might get confused if she kept throwing too much  _a cappella_  jargon at them - and confusion was the last thing they needed, not if they wanted to do well.

 

"The tag is essentially the coda - the grand finale - of any barbershop song. It's the part of the song where the best barbershop chords finally arrive." The young ladies looked at her, enraptured. "And, I think I know what we can do to really make those chords sparkle."

 

Mr. Carson listened from the piano, not being needed for the  _a cappella_ piece but also unwilling to work from his desk for the time being. And on a personal note, he himself agreed that this "tag" was still lacking, that there was something missing.

 

However, little did the choir or Elsie know, he was rather fond of the piece - finding the song to be a charming composition that touched him in ways he couldn't describe. So, rather than bog himself down in administrative paperwork that could honestly wait, Charles decided to surreptitiously enjoy the experience under the guise of standing guard at the piano.

 

"Leads," Elsie turned to the second sopranos, "I really need you to go back to your second soprano roots for the last ' _I'll never let you go'_. I know it's a difficult part to get right, but that only makes it more important to get it right."

 

Typically, even though second sopranos did dabble in the melody, they also got to sing some pretty quirky notes and jump around the melody in fascinating ways. Therefore, when the second sopranos all had to sing the entire melody, it was harder than normal in some ways - seeing as how they were all trained to do just the opposite.

 

"I also want you to take your time with the final ' _you'_. It's a very second soprano moment, so make sure to give it the slide it deserves." Instead of an intentional glissando she wanted, the ladies had been giving her a quick change in notes. "Remember, this song is your time to shine with the melody. Enjoy it as much as you can."

 

The second sopranos eagerly nodded, many still not used to a song where they had the melody instead of being relegated to helping with the harmony.

 

"Baritones," The woman turned her focus back to the first altos, "When it comes to the ' _lu, lu, lu'_ s', I don't want you to just sing it. I want you to be the water this candle is resting on. Rise and fall in volume throughout that part, ripple through the notes. And if you're not sure as to what I mean, watch my hands when we get to that part - that should help."

 

The first altos took in her critique quietly, a few even closing their eyes to imagine what she was asking of them.

 

"Tenors," With the way she was turning to them, many already knew what her request was going to be. "You already know what I'm going to say: do not sing 'pretty'. Give me the notes as is."

 

The first sopranos looked sheepish, having the most trouble of the choir with that request. The problem was, thinking that they had to sing in a "pretty" fashion had their voices far breathier and muffled than they could be. In essence, it was the reverse of what was required.

 

See, there was an inherent beauty in singing in a healthier fashion - a clarity came with, as well as a freeing sound. However, because it was healthier it tended to be far more effortless. Therefore, many people thought they had to be singing wrong because it was just too easy.

 

"Basses," The second altos looked at her curiously, feeling pretty confident about their part. "Don't get caught in the basement. Remember, the lower you have to sing, the higher you imagine yourself to be singing."

 

Each part now having received their varied instructions, the young women were ready to jump back into the vocal fray that was  _a cappella_ sound.

 

And, this time, there was clear improvement.

 

_._

_**Friday, the 8th of March, 2019** _

 

"Are you excited for the 'Best of Downton', Mrs. Hughes?"

 

They were supposed to be getting ready to leave, the  _a cappella_ choir now all packed up and ready to go for the day. Except, it seemed Ellie Bell was not ready to head out just yet.

 

"The 'Best of Downton', Ellie?"

 

"Aren't you going to be performing in it?" Elsie tilted her head a little in confusion, not sure as how the second soprano knew of her involvement in the show. "It said so on our Instagram page for the choirs."

 

"Really?" But, Ellie was already grabbing her phone out - fingers tapping away to show just what she meant.

 

And after half a minute, there it was: proof of her involvement.

 

A gorgeous graphic of the stage featured in the post, the picture smoothly illuminating the elegance of their auditorium. A flowing script adorned the right side of the picture, giving the basic details of the event, whilst the caption below the graphic gave further details.

 

However, there was a phrase within the caption that particularly caught her eyes.

 

" _Featuring the renowned Elsie Hughes amongst other talent such as…"_

 

And, judging from the comments, she wasn't the only one who caught such a detail.

 

**drobinson16** I didn't know Mrs. Hughes was going to be performing! Who else is coming _w1ll1am_ illbebaxs aparkerisaparker?

**allamongtheivy** Apparently, my mum's been a fan for years! Whole family's coming that Friday!

 

Elsie forced her eyes away from the screen, knowing that she could get lost in the comments if she wasn't careful.

 

"I see." Ellie frowned a bit at this, not understanding why her teacher wasn't excited.

 

Of course, the second soprano was unaware of the fact that it really did take a lot to return to something if you haven't done it in years. And, when people had an expectation that you were going to be amazing, that sometimes made the return even more nerve-wracking.

 

_._

 

_**Wednesday, March 13th, 2019** _

 

"Why no competitions for New York?" Elsie withheld her smile, having been expecting the question.

 

"Most of the deadlines for the competitions we would be eligible for have already past. And, even if they're still open, it is far too expensive to fundraise for New York just yet." Charles nodded, perfectly understanding.

 

"And, of the three, which do you lean more towards?"

 

"Personally, I am more inclined to register for either Chicago or Nashville. Los Angeles, especially since we would be in the county and not the city itself, would be difficult to get around."

 

"You've been to Los Angeles?" He himself had never had a desire, and so was quite alright with never venturing to the West Coast of the United States.

 

Elsie nodded. "Barbershop in particular brought me to that part of the States more than once."

 

"Right." It was easy to forget that they'd both ventured into that genre of music, especially since they had two very different experiences with it. "And, between the Nashville and Chicago, is there a preference?"

 

"There's almost always a preference, Mr. Carson," She quipped, "But I'm not interested in swaying your opinion on the matter."

 

"Not yet, at least?" He lightly teased, prompting a sharp look tinted with amusement.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 14th of March, 2019**

 

_**Ladies and gentlemen,** _

_**We at Downton Academy are proud to announce that there will be a concert in March dedicated to showcasing our talent at this fine institution. Vocalists and instrumentalists will be performing on Friday, March 22nd, 2019 at 6 o'clock in the evening. A reception at Downton Abbey will be following.** _

_**All are warmly welcomed to attend. Tickets for faculty and adults are £10.00, students are free. As always, there is a suggested donation of £20.00.** _

_**With warmest regards,** _

_**Cora Crawley** _

 

_._

 

"So, just how many students have mentioned they're going to the show?" Elsie withheld a groan of frustration, now recalling the dozens of students who caught wind of her upcoming performance and had promptly remarked that they'd be supporting her by coming to the show.

 

"You know better than to ask that," Beryl snorted at this, knowing what that meant.

 

"That bad, eh?"

 

"I truly don't know what they're expecting, it's not as though they haven't heard me sing before." The choir teacher commented, still a little bewildered by all the attention. The band director rolled her eyes in turn, unable to believe that her friend didn't realize the difference between a rehearsal and a performance.

 

_._

 

**Friday, the 15th of March, 2019**

 

Truly, by this point in time, all of the teachers involved within the music department should have realized that when Cora Crawley was invested bringing something into fruition - such as the appearance of reclusive faculty at a reception - she would be using all of her power to make such fruition occur.

 

_._

 

"Oh, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes! I'm so glad to have caught you!" Charles and Elsie swiveled around to the voice of one Cora Crawley - easily bringing forth an air of professionalism as they faced the administrator.

 

"What can we do for you, Mrs. Crawley?" Due to all of their interactions with the woman this semester, the pair couldn't help but feel a little on edge - hoping that there wasn't some sort of administrative error in regards to the staff.

 

"As you already know, we will be having a reception for 'the Best of Downton' next week." This was news to Elsie, though Charles vaguely recalled this being mentioned in one of the many staff meetings he was required to attend. "And, I was only hoping to confirm your presence at the event."

 

She subtly stiffened, not necessarily caring for the thought. However, before either of them could decline the invitation, Cora was already continuing to speak.

 

"I would also like to add that several donors who will be attending the event are staunch supporters of the music department. That a few of them have already donated to your fundraisers, yet many others have not heard of the choirs' plight. And therefore, this would be an excellent opportunity to raise a little more money for the cause."

 

Well, that made the decision for them, didn't it?

 

_._

 

"You know what this means?" Beryl piped up, after her colleagues had informed her of the decision they had no choice over.

 

"What does this mean, Mrs. Patmore?" Charles was not as miffed about the matter as Elsie, but even he wasn't entirely happy about the matter.

 

"You will  _both_ have to go shopping!" The band director declared with glee - tickled beyond belief. "You can't go to a reception with several esteemed donors in what you normally wear."

 

"What's wrong with my concert attire?" "And I suppose you simply must accompany us when we do so?"

 

"Of course! What else did you expect?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> I promise, even with everything else going on, I will not leave you hanging for nearly as long with the update! Thank you for your patience, and I can't wait for the next one! And to all reviewers who are not guests - I will indeed properly respond to you by tomorrow at the very latest, this I also promise!


	20. Lost Tags and Found Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19: Make sure that, if you're reading all the updates from today, you start at "Changing Times and Timing Changes"
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience! It's really been an intense time over here, to say the least. Though, I'm happy to say all of the stuff going on makes writing this even more fun :)
> 
> Also, I'm going to be making some barbershop/song references in this chapter. All of them are real pieces of barbershop music, and all can be found on the internet - and I'll be giving specific instructions on searching for them all in the final author's note of this chapter!

**Monday, 18th of March, 2019**

"Mr. Carson, might I make a suggestion about warm-ups today?" It was the week of the ensemble competition and the "Best of Downton". Naturally, every choir was on edge the closer they got to March 23rd. Whether that was looking paler and paler with each day or making silly mistakes that didn't suit their level of expertise, the students were on edge.

 

"What is it, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

However, just because there was a choir competition right around the corner did not mean that they had to succumb to nerves.

 

"I would like to warm-up the way we do in  _a cappella_ rehearsals. I seriously think it'll help the students."

 

He gave a start, not having been anticipating that. But, her earnest expression and her resolved posture informed him of the fact that she really thought this would work.

 

"Are you quite sure that's necessary?"

 

"I am."

 

"Well, Mrs. Hughes, if you think that's the case." Still, his tone didn't speak confidently of the matter. In any case, Charles was already thinking through his own idea, continuing. "Speaking of necessities, there is an idea that I must ask you to sincerely consider, in preparation of the showcase."

 

"And what's that, Mr. Carson?"

 

_._

 

"The words are 'When it's sleepy time down south." She informed the Bass Choir, pleased that they were paying attention for the most part. "Now, while I could demonstrate your parts an octave up, I am under strict orders to refrain from additional singing."

 

"As well as additional speaking, for that matter." Charles reminded her, as though speaking for a few minutes today would somehow strain her vocal chords too much to perform on Friday. "Therefore,  _I_ will be singing your parts for this warm-up."

 

_While I humour a certain someone by silently observing from the piano and trying not to laugh…._

 

_._

 

"Now, ladies," Mr. Carson seemed to be simultaneously dreading and enjoying whatever it is he had to announce for the Bel Canto. "We will begin today's warm-ups with what is known as a barbershop tag."

 

"And this particular one is a personal favourite." Mrs. Hughes proclaimed from her spot next to the piano, quite pleased with the choice.

 

"Yes, well, the words are 'Sunshine is bidding the day goodbye'. And, if you look closely at the music written on the board," For almost all of the tags were short enough that he chose to write out the sheet music on the board for the class to read. "We actually experience a key change at the very end of the song."

 

Judging from Mrs. Hughes' now beaming smile, that key change probably helped to make it a "personal favourite".

 

_._

 

"Perhaps, Mrs. Hughes, I might make the suggestion of practicing this particular 'tag' for the Concert Choir. It seems reasonably challenging."

 

Now, as a trade-off to make sure she had allowed him control of her little packet of tags to look over for the Concert Choir.

 

Naturally, he had taken full advantage of it.

 

"'Lost'? You really think so?"

 

"At the very least, I think it has the potential to sound wonderful."

 

Well, that at least was correct. With lyrics and notes as soothing as "Lost", the choir could hardly go wrong.

 

And, personally, she was quite curious to hear how they'd all make it sound.

 

_._

 

Madalynn had gained an inkling of the beautiful music above her as the third class period began. Nevertheless, it wasn't until the full snippet of sound rang through the floorboards that she realized just how gorgeous it was.

 

" _And I will wait to face the skies,_

_Ever roaming in your eyes."_

 

Whoever was holding out that note did an excellent job as the rest of the voices came back into the piece.

 

" _There I go lost in_

_Your eyes."_

 

_._

 

"What tag will we be learning today, Mr. Carson?" The question was shot off the second the Treble Choir was sat in their seats - one Isabel Johnson being the young lady brave enough to voice it. She had, of course, heard her friends talk about the unusual warm-up in class today and was so looking forward to hearing the Treble Choir's own warm-up.

 

"We shall be learning 'Lily Marlene'."

 

_._

 

Beryl Patmore stood in the entrance closest to both 402 and 403, waiting just out of sight and determined to firmly stand her ground in every sense of the phrase.

 

Ever since she had joked about finding appropriate attire for the showcase and following reception, her colleagues had adamantly avoided the subject. Whether that was by laughing away her comments or flat-out shifting the topic away, both of her friends were rather against the idea of shopping for new attire.

 

Still, as she had reminded them time and time again, this isn't just another choir concert. They will be the main focus for more than just conducting - and, therefore, they had to dress for the occasion.

 

Speaking of the upcoming showcase, "I still can't believe it's only four days away."

 

It looked as though the door to 403, the door closest to her that is, was beginning to creak open.

 

"Time certainly knows how to fly when it wants to," Mr. Carson noted in turn, still oblivious to the band director's presence in the hallway.

 

"Sounds about right," Beryl decided that was this time to sharply interject herself into the conversation. "And, by this rate, time'll probably have gone to the moon and back by the time you've both obtained attire.

 

Freezing almost like children, two of the most esteemed teachers of Downton stood in the doorway - resembling apprehensive students touching music for the first time.

 

"Surely, my conductor's attire-"

 

"Which hasn't changed in the last decade."

 

"- Is appropriate for such a showcase." Yet, Mr. Carson already looked as though he recognized the futility of arguing with Beryl in this instance.

 

Still, just because he recognized it didn't mean the band director would now be speaking unopposed.

 

"While Mr. Carson may not have changed his concert wardrobe in some time," Elsie began to lightly quip, unintentionally garnering an indignant look from her comrade in arms. "You'll recall that we already went shopping for a new dress."

 

"Seeing as how you've already worn it to an event all of these donors attended, it's not 'new'." Beryl retorted, "And while this might not seem like an issue, in this day and age it is. Something I believe we all already agreed about on Friday."

 

Returning back to a more sullen silence, her two colleagues came off as abnormally petulant in this matter. Well, it's not as though she hadn't dealt with that sort of attitude left and right for several years.

 

By now, Beryl Patmore was quite the expert in such matters.

 

"Now, my car's waiting for us downstairs."

 

"Do you not think that it'll suffice to return to the charity shop we went to?" But, Beryl was already firmly shaking her head - an answer long since prepared.

 

"No, I do not!"

 

_._

 

Bridget Collins was not paid nearly enough to handle most of the people who wandered through  _Bennet & Collins_.

 

Though, in this case, she was willing

 

"Mr. Carson, you're in charge of making sure she does  _not_ just pick another black dress. Use any means necessary." The man looked conflicted at the command, but the red-headed woman was already marching towards the racks. "And, Mrs. Hughes, you are to make sure that he doesn't grab anything that'll turn him into a penguin on stage."

 

"Do you not think that Mr. Carson and I are both perfectly capable of searching for our own attire?"

 

Her friend paused in her investigation of the clothes before giving a rather arch and frank response.

 

"Not really, no."

 

Bridget withheld a snicker, but only just. Still, even this discreet action was noticed by this Mr. Carson character - his indignant expression strong enough to inform her that this was not a normal occasion for the man and that he did not appreciate her action.

 

Whatever - she wasn't going to help the man get out of this nightmare. This is the most entertainment she's had in this shop for  _weeks_.

 

And something informed her that it was only going to get better from here.

 

_._

 

"No, I simply refuse to wear any such ensemble piece." Beryl resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she handed her shopping companion the armful of clothes she carried.

 

"That's nice." Once she passed the dress shirts and trousers over with feigned ease, the woman immediately distanced herself from Charles - intent on making sure he couldn't just hand it all back.

 

"Mrs. Patmore, really-"

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie called out from the dressing rooms. "While I understand your hesitation, I have to ask that you humour Mrs. Patmore for at least the next ten minutes."

 

"But, Mrs. Hughes, you currently do not see what monstrosities I'm being forced to adorn myself in."

 

"Yes, well, I hardly doubt you'd want to me to step out and see for myself, considering my current state of dress."

 

"Or lack thereof?" Beryl cheekily inquired, cracking up at the sight of Charles' tomato red blush. "Personally, I'm not particularly sure Mr. Carson would have many objections to that."

 

There was a heavy, flustering silence that ensued at that while Elsie searched for the appropriate response.

 

"Mrs. Patmore, do you want me to continue trying on dresses? Or would you rather I just go ahead and buy this?" Beryl looked over in the direction of the changing room to see Elsie reveal a hanger containing simple black dress. It was one that was rather plain and quite unsuitable for garnering attention.

 

"How did you sneak that into your pile of clothes?" The band director had been quite explicit that that sort of thing was not to be tried on or even looked at as an option.

 

"A performer never reveals her secrets."

 

_._

 

After what felt like years of trying on new apparel, there finally came a dress that not only looked exquisite but felt perfectly marvelous. A dress that soothed away the nerves of performing for the first time in years, a dress that reminded her of how beautiful she had once felt back in her prime, and a dress that radiated an inspiring divine quality.

 

The sleeves alleviated any fears of looking ghostly on stage, the floor length afforded her comfort in knowing that the audience would only be focused on her face rather than her legs, and the structure was loose enough at the waist to allow for breathing space whilst still maintaining the fact that she had a fairly proportionate body.

 

And so, with an elegant ease she hadn't felt in a very long time, Elsie slipped out of the dressing room and allowed the ethereal fabric to fall gorgeously around her.

 

"Will this suffice?" It was meant to dryly uttered, quite possibly in a facetious manner. However, even her typically playful tone continued to contain traces of the unusual astonishment the woman was experiencing.

 

Beryl and Charles turned, the pair having been bickering for the seventh time that afternoon about the "garish displays" surrounding them.

 

"You look absolutely stunning." "You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to."

 

Elsie nodded at their comments, still in awe of the dress herself. Swaying around her, the material was an ocean blue that shimmered and rippled a sense of grace throughout the store. The shimmering fabric refracted the varying lights effortlessly, making even the fluorescent bulbs above the trio seem almost like glimmering stage lights that radiated poise and beauty.

 

"Ma'am," The lone worker on the staff piped up from her register in the corner. "If you do not purchase that dress, I think I'm going to have to for you."

 

They all laughed at this, variations of breathy chuckles and tickled chortles sounding at the statement - everyone honestly stunned by the change in mood.

 

"Well, I suppose that settles it." Elsie remarked, touched by the compliment.

 

"There's just one thing," The band director remarked, catching everyone's attention. "Will you be wearing that to  _only_  the reception? Or will you be wearing it to both the concert and reception?"

 

The choir teacher paused, thinking the matter over for a long while as she absorbed the enchanting feeling the dress brought her. It certainly was quite a consideration to make, even if it didn't seem to be all that big of a deal.

 

It was the difference between making sure she stood out at the showcase and allowing herself to blend in with the other performers. The difference between letting the other soloists take the attention of the audience or possibly taking some of that attention herself.

 

For while everyone would be wearing high quality costumes and gorgeous attire, this particular dress struck her as inordinately distinguished - even at a showcase such as the Best of Downton.

 

However, even with all of these contemplations the answer was not coming to her - no matter how much time she thought on the matter.

 

"I really can't say."

 

Her two shopping companions exchanged looked at this, having formed their own opinions in the process. In that moment, they were probably far more united on that front than anything else in the past: both being of the belief that Elsie should wear that particular dress whenever and wherever she felt like doing as such.

 

Fortunately, there'd be time to convince their dear friend of that. They did have a few more days, after all.

 

"Right. We'll figure that out later. Now, we just need to find you a matching shirt!" Beryl informed Charles, striding back over to the other sections before he could attempt to protest.

 

_._

 

**Tuesday, the 19th of March, 2019**

 

"Oh, Mrs. Drews!" Madalynn had been pleased to have caught the woman before the school day started, having been concerned for the teacher ever since she'd brought the woman to the band room. "I take it you've recovered from your illness?"

 

"Please, call me Elsie," The woman kindly responded as they began to fall into step. The English teacher nodded slightly, not necessarily knowing if they knew one another well enough for such casual terms of addressment but content to let the matter rest.

 

"Then, in that instance, you may refer to me as Madalynn." Elsie smiled at this, nodding to herself as the conversation continued.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson, could we sing another tag today?" It was Alfred who was willing to request the warm-up everyone got a kick out of yesterday.

 

His choir director only looked at him in a disappointed manner - as though hearing such a request was not what he intended for today's rehearsal.

 

"Perhaps we can teach them 'Cry', Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Hughes playfully interjected. "It does seem to be appropriate for the mood."

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Patmore, do you mean to tell me that Mr. Carson actually purchased  _new_ attire for the occasion?"

 

"You better believe it, Mrs. Bird! And just wait till you see what I got- what Mrs. Hughes decided to purchase for herself!"

 

_._

 

This time, it was Sybil Crawley who was bold enough to make the inquiry. She stood waiting at the spot in the room where Mr. Carson would reside were he conducting, patiently waiting for a chance to make her request.

 

He already knew what she wanted before she even opened her mouth.

 

"If we are able to work through all of our competition pieces," Mr. Carson said, turning to the rest of the class. "I will be inclined to teach you  _one_ tag. Perhaps 'Smile' because that's what you're all intent on doing today."

 

"Why not 'Friendship and Love', Mr. Carson?" The suggestion came from the piano. "It certainly seems appropriate to remain united when a competition is approaching."

 

Of course, he knew she was just partial to that particular tag and was using any excuse to hear it.

 

_._

 

It was one of those rare quiet moments, the ones that were typically utilized for either getting work done or simply enjoying one's self.

 

However, in the case of one Charles Carson, he could do neither. For he was sifting through conflicting thoughts - had been ever since the previous day, in fact.

 

"Elsie, do you really think it's really necessary to wear new attire for this occasion? I know it's already been purchased, and I recognize that it's completely appropriate in your case, however-"

 

She gave a jolt, having been sorting out some misplaced music in the library whilst he'd spoken, and ended up bumping into one of the shelves. She released a hiss in the process, the impact being more painful than anticipated.

 

"Is everything alright?" Apparently, Charles had not noticed his verbal slip even though he certainly caught the sound of her colliding into shelves.

 

"Everything's perfectly fine -" But the man was already heading over to investigate, far too concerned to let the matter drop without further examination. "I was just taken by surprise, that's all."

 

"But what could have surprised you to such an extent?"

 

She rubbed her head, still feeling a sting from the collision, and could only give a laugh. Charles truly had no idea that he had called her Elsie instead of Mrs. Hughes.

 

"You did." It was a simple response, one uttered between fading hints of chortles and a response that prompted him to look even more perturbed.

 

"I did?"

 

"Yes, Charles," Purposefully emphasizing his name, Elsie fixed her gaze on him - hoping that that emphasis would be enough. "You did."

 

Judging from the furrowing of his eyebrows and a deepening look of confusion, there'd need to be more elaboration.

 

Well, once her second round of laughter subsided, she'd be sure to fully explain.

 

_._

 

"I just wanted to say, Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, good luck to the competing choirs this weekend! And good luck with the show!"

 

Charlotte Williams smiled at her teachers one more time before gracefully departing for the day, the Treble Choir rehearsal having finally finished.

 

Of course, it was only once the door firmly closed that Mr. Carson felt comfortable enough to voice his thoughts.

 

"Good luck to us all, in the vain hope that we avoid scandalous gossip," It was bad enough that their rival school was hosting the first competition - now, with Emma's sudden transference, scandal was sure to abound. "And before you say anything, I'd like to remind you that I am quite the curmudgeon - something you knew practically from the start. And you also promised to rest your voice for the rest of the week."

 

"I take it your being a curmudgeon apparently gives you the right to make those sorts of remarks?" The question was acerbically put forth, followed by a raised eyebrow and a knowing look as she outright ignored the second part of his statement.

 

The look was met by a rather facetious stare - one that dared her to be brazen in response.

 

Naturally, at this, she had to lean in closer and give his silent challenge a proper retort - one that would undoubtedly require something more than mere words.

 

"Mr. Carson thinks he's got many reasons to make any sort of remark," Beryl piped up from the doorway, totally unaware that she interrupted a moment. "Whether he actually is or not is another thing altogether."

 

"Sounds like someone else I know," Elsie couldn't help but quip, frustrated that her actions were interrupted even if she was thankful it was Beryl and not a student witnessing this moment.

 

No matter. When the first competition and this blasted showcase were over, she'd be sure to sneak in a few more "proper retorts" whenever she could.

 

_._

 

**Wednesday, the 20th of March, 2019**

 

"Mrs. Hughes," It looked like Rose was interested in staying behind class for once. "I was wondering something,"

 

"What were you wondering, Rose?" Though, judging from how the first soprano's eyes glowed with enthusiasm, Elsie already had a feeling that she knew what sort of request will entail.

 

"Well, because of a growing interest in our videos that feature you conducting the choirs and giving basic tips," For that had been what they'd been working on together in their respective free time. "I was wondering if I could possibly record your performance at the 'Best of Downton'?"

 

It was a very last minute request, considering they were less than three days away from the event. However, this was Rose and so her impulsivity did not truly surprise the choir teacher by this point.

 

Nevertheless, that didn't mean the younger singer had her permission.

 

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what difference that will make," After all, she hadn't been on the stage as a soloist in quite some time - just because there were still a few fans of her didn't mean a recording of her performance would help their fundraising efforts.

 

"What if I told you that Mr. Carson had suggested the idea?" Elsie blinked, having not been expecting Rose to have run this idea by Charles. "That, when I mentioned how many people have been commenting requests to hear you sing again, he said the Best of Downton would be an appropriate time to record those requests."

 

"Did he now?" Somehow, Elsie got the feeling that the choir director did not say exactly those words.

 

"More or less," Came the sheepish reply, only confirming the older woman's thoughts on the matter.

 

_._

 

" _Or help one fainting robin,_

_Unto his nest again."_

 

The student had followed the soothing sounds all the way up the stairs - having recognized the voice but still floored by the magnificent sound emanating. Moreover, the fairy tale-esque accompaniment blended with the soprano voice so gorgeously it was almost as though this were all a dream.

 

" _I shall not live in vain."_

 

Thomas stood out of sight from both classrooms, shamelessly eavesdropping near 403 as he continued to realize just how powerful his teacher really was as a performer - and how inspiring her voice could be.

 

It was times at these when, even though it was only two days away, the Best of Downton felt so far away. In essence, although he wanted to continue to listen in on this rehearsal, he also wanted to experience the song in its full glory come Friday.

 

So as the piano's notes began to slip out of the room and float into the hallway, signalling that the intensity and grandeur of the piece would only rise, Thomas reluctantly took his leave.

 

Like so many others who'd caught whispers of the performance-to-be, he truly couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:
> 
> Not quite a traditional cliff-hanger and, unlike the last few chapters, I don't intend to take nearly a week to give the next update!
> 
> Also! If you want suggestions for listening to those tags in their respective order of this chapter, look up barbershoptags. In the part that says "Search for tags", type in "Sleepytime Down South". "Sunshine is Bidding the Day Goodbye", "Lost 52eighty version" (Check out the first video listed for that one! It's my personal favorite version of the piece!), "Lily Marlene", "Cry - sorry I made you cry", and "Friendship and Love". And if you have any questions let me know!
> 
> Furthermore, to give justice to each individual experience, I will be splitting the Best of Downton and the First Choir Competition into two separate chapters. Nevertheless, you can certainly bet on the next chapter being about the Best of Downton! (And the following reception! Woo!)
> 
> In any case, I hope you' all have a wonderful day! :)


	21. I Shall Not Live in Vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19: Make sure to check out Chapter 19/"Changing Times and Timing Changes" if you haven't already!
> 
>  
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
> And, now, please allow me to present to you the very song that truly began to inspire this entire story. The version featuring the one who inspired it - the particular singer/teacher that performed this mesmerizing piece some time ago - cannot be found anywhere. Nevertheless, if you want a reference to listen along to, look up "I Shall Not Live in Vain by Jake Haggie b. 1961 feat. Christabel Nunoo, Soprano". It is rather impressive in its own right and is the closest I've heard to my former professor's.
> 
> (Also, just a note: although they say "Haggie" in the video's title, it is actually "Heggie".)
> 
> (Additional side note: for Mrs. Patmore's/Daisy's/Mrs. Bird's trio piece, look up "Pie Jesu-Trumpet and Violin". For Mary's solo, look up "Barbara Bonney; "Du bist die Ruh"; Franz Schubert". And for Sybil/Gwen's duet, look up "How Can I keep from Singing duet Kaileigh McCutcheon".)

**Friday, the 22nd of March, 2019**

 

It was never good to walk into work and receive praise for something you had no knowledge of doing.

 

Especially not at Carlisle Institute.

 

_._

 

"Phoebe, I must confess: it was a brilliant idea you and Emma had bringing sight-singing into the program." Francesca Barnes, the choir director of Carlisle Institution, casually remarked over her morning tea as Phoebe came into their choir room.

 

Unlike Downton Academy, the music rooms of Carlisle Institute was not sequestered in the highest floors. Rather, rooms 144-156 were all tucked away in one of the corners of the school. It meant no flights of stairs to work, as well as no chance for any student to ditch class simply by avoiding the fourth floor.

 

In short, it was perfection.

 

"Thank you, Francesca," Even though Phoebe had no idea as to what her boss was referencing, she was not foolish enough to admit as such. "What in particular did you like about the idea?"

 

"The overall concept of implementing an additional factor into the scoring, especially one based solely on each choir's ability to adapt to sight-reading, is rather brilliant. Perhaps a little bold for Emma, considering this is her first semester. However, with your guidance on the matter, I'm sure she made an excellent selection in regards to the pieces."

 

"You mean you haven't previewed the sight-reading selections?" Speaking of adaptability, this situation was rapidly unfolding into something rather distasteful in the eyes of Phoebe.

 

"Not yet, unfortunately. It seems that the delivery services will be cutting it rather close - they'll be bringing the materials tomorrow, according to Emma." Francesca glanced up from her paperwork, having picked an unspoken concern from Phoebe's question. "Was there something I should be aware of?"

 

"No." The lie was not as smooth as she'd have liked, but it would have to suffice.

 

How Emma went behind her back or proposed the idea was no longer relevant. It only served to inform the woman that friendship apparently meant nothing when it came to this sort of pettiness as getting "revenge" - something rather disappointing to conclude, in all honesty.

 

Either way, it seemed Phoebe had her work for the next 36 hours cut out for her. While she couldn't blatantly revoke the sight-reading requirement, she would have to see what ways it could accidentally become nullified - if there were indeed ways.

 

Here's hoping this didn't blow up in their faces come tomorrow.

 

_._

 

"Ready for this evening?"

 

Elsie resisted the urge to scoff at the question - feeling a little absurd. Decades of performance experience, and she still felt horrendously nervous about appearing on the stage in this capacity. Of course, this was the first time since Joe passed that she'd be taking to the stage as a soloist - which brought up rather unpleasant memories in itself - but, still, she should be used to these nerves by now.

 

"As ready as I'll ever be."  _So long as I'm early in the line-up, it won't matter how disappointing this ends up being._

 

After all, it wasn't just all the memories of the end of her career. It was also that, in her opinion, her voice was not the magnificent sound it had been in her prime. Furthermore, regardless of what dress she wore or how well she sang or what happened in general, something was sure to go wrong. No performance was ever truly perfect.

 

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Hughes?" The choir director quietly asked, apparently sensing some of her concern.

 

"Perfectly fine." It wasn't fully a lie, but it wasn't the total truth. Besides, whether Elsie did well or not, she'd survive and they'd keep moving on in life.

 

"Right." Charles hardly seemed convinced. But, he also didn't seem to be pushing the matter - which helped a bit.

 

In any case, they sank into a worn-down silence, a tired air taking hold of the room as they both returned to their own thoughts.

 

Though, thoughts or not, silence wasn't to rule the space forever.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," It seemed the choir director had remembered something important - judging from his sudden shift in subject. "I know I'd requested your resting your voice earlier this week, but we've both been rather lax in upholding that request. Therefore, today, I must insist that you truly refrain from speaking."

 

Elsie would have quipped back in response that it was hardly conducive to warming up her voice if she remained silent. However, his pleading eyes and solemn demeanor had her give a respectful nod instead.

 

Besides, refraining from speaking meant that she didn't have to reassure anyone that she was alright.

 

Which, honestly, was a bit of a relief all things considered. If she wasn't debating about the dress, reminiscing about her prime, feeling the pain that accompanied Joe's absence, then she was running over the competition pieces for tomorrow.

 

In essence, she was stressed out. And though she normally never cared for stressing about things out of her control, today seemed to be one of those rare exceptions.

 

"Thank you. I would, of course, like to gently warm-up your voice at some point before the concert. However, I'd rather not risk overdoing anything."

 

Frankly, the whole matter was a tad endearing - even if she didn't like feeling as though her voice were being boxed up for the day as though she were a child.

 

"Right. Now, were you planning at changing at the school?" Elsie nodded once more, gesturing to the corner of the room. In that corner there was a performance bag containing her accessories, shoes, and the two dresses were waiting to be worn. Still unable to figure out whether she wanted to wear the new dress solely for the reception or for both the recital and reception, the choir teacher had brought both dresses. "Excellent. Of course, we'll want it to remain wrinkle-free. Therefore, I suggest we move the dress to the closet of 403."

 

He'd already stepped over in the direction of the bag containing the dresses by the time she remembered she was supposed to be quiet.

 

"I see you brought both dresses today?" An arched eyebrow was given in response to that question. "Well, no matter. We'll hang them both up."

 

_And just what is_ _**that** _ _supposed to mean?_

 

Luckily, she was able to convey that message without saying a word.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Andy had arrived a little earlier than normal and, upon hearing Mr. Carson speak to the choir teacher in an odd manner, stopped outside the door to 402. "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to step out of the room for a moment. There is something I wish to discuss with the gentlemen."

 

The tenor didn't hear her respond. All he noticed was that she was soon briskly sweeping past him, a hint of vexation in her walk.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," The student greeted respectfully, but she was too caught up in her own thoughts to take note. Well, that was okay - he wasn't really feeling all that up to chatting right now anyway.

 

Andy still waited another minute before walking in, not being in the mood to be approached by a well-meaning Mr. Carson or any of his peers. It was just one of those days where he wasn't interested in the energy it took to talk to other people - especially seeing as how their first competition was tomorrow.

 

Though surprisingly enough, it looked like Mr. Carson was just as off in his manners. Normally, the put-together teacher didn't keep glancing towards the door as he waited for the rest his students to file into the room. Nor did his hands twitch quite that often.

 

"Gentlemen," The choir director began, only once everyone was seated. "I wish to say something before our rehearsal begins."

 

They all sat up, unsure as to what exactly Mr. Carson wanted to tell them at this point.

 

"Firstly, I would like to say that I'm rather proud of each and every one of you for the effort you've put into learning your music." Confidence firmly traced his tone, coaxing pleased smiles out of his students. "This has been one of the best Bass Choirs I've had the pleasure of directing, and I have absolute faith in regards to our competition tomorrow."

 

Andy took the pep talk in with a sense of relief. He thought they sounded good, that they could even do well at tomorrow's competition. Still, to hear Mr. Carson, of all teachers, state that made a world of difference.

 

"Secondly," This is where Mr. Carson returned back to the nervous behavior he'd been exhibiting earlier. "Due to her performance tonight, Mrs. Hughes will be resting her voice today. Therefore, any questions you have for her today you will address to me."

 

They were confused by this command, to say the least. However, even the Bass Choir - filled with many new choir students - knew better than to question the choir director about his requests.

 

"Now, Alfred, would you be so kind as to bring Mrs. Hughes back from the hallway?" The bass in question nodded, getting up to follow through with his teacher's request.

 

"We'll be starting off with 'Silent Noon' today. However, I know none of you have needed to reference any of the songs for at least a week. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that you will not be referencing the music within your binders today."

 

_._

 

For Bel Canto, it seemed that there was another reason for Elsie to leave the room for a few minutes.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, would you terribly mind dropping off these forms for the main office?" It was one of the many forms that the administration needed in order to approve the students to go to the States.

 

This request, of course, had no correlation with the fact that he wanted to give the Bel Canto a motivating speech - as well as mention the need to leave any questions to him and not Mrs. Hughes.

 

Fortunately, she was still a little too distracted about everything to notice.

 

_._

 

Edith curiously watched on her choir director continued to speak to them.

 

"In preparation of 'the Best of Downton' this evening, I would like to ask that only performers in the showcase visit the choir rooms during their respective lunch periods." This was probably a last minute announcement in the choir director's opinion, but she thought it made perfect sense to only inform them of the matter the day of - so that the students weren't confused.

 

Well, she wasn't performing today. So, it looked like there'd be a break in the matter for her - quite nice considering it was Friday, after all.

 

_._

 

Mrs. Patmore was rarely on a mission these days.

 

Well, there was a caveat to that statement. The caveat being that she was rarely on missions that did not involve the music department - or, more specifically, the choirs.

 

Still, today she was on a mission.

 

_._

 

"Have you seen the order of the program yet?" Beryl had hurried over to the second fourth floor the second she could, having made a startling discovery only an hour ago. "Because, if you haven't, I think you should."

 

"Mrs. Crawley informed me that the set list would be available for perusal come 4 o'clock." Charles primly replied, a little relieved Elsie had stepped out to use the restroom now that the band director was bringing up the showcase.

 

"Yeah, well, I think you're going to want to see this."

 

She showed him the copy she had of the program, flourishing it with a sense of frustration. He politely took the paper, refraining from snatching it even as his mind raced to understand why the band director would be acting in such a manner.

 

In only a few seconds he understood.

 

There were no technical errors, per se.

 

Rather, this frustration stemmed from an issue involving the  _order_  of the set list.

 

_._

 

Mary climbed up the stairs leading to the second fourth floor with an unusual hint of trepidation. Being one of the 16 performers within the Best of Downton was honestly a nerve-wracking thought - even for the normally put together young woman.

 

She could only hope her version of "Du Bist Die Ruh" tonight would hold up to her standards as well as the school's.

 

_._

 

The choir director had been mainly in charge of the eldest Crawley's solo rehearsal today - in an effort to keep his colleague's voice well-rested.

 

Nevertheless, just because he was concerned about his colleague did not mean he couldn't notice his students internal struggle.

 

And, after seven minutes of watching her become more and more stuck in her head, enough had finally become enough.

 

"Mary," Mr. Carson focused all of his attention on the young woman, wanting to convey absolute sincerity. "If there is one thing I'd like you to focus on this evening, it is not your diction. Nor is it making sure your rhythms are perfected."

 

The soprano quietly listened as her teacher continued, surprised by how reassuring his voice was - even though he hadn't even given her any official encouragement or advice yet.

 

"Instead," The choir director paused, hoping that his message was received. "I'd like you to concentrate on illustrating to the audience that you are worthy of being on the stage. Because you are indeed worthy."

 

She couldn't speak for a moment, her seemingly calm demeanour clearly only a mask.

 

"But, what if it all goes wrong?"

 

He kindly smiled at her, hoping that his next words would help to relieve the situation at least a little.

 

"No matter how it goes, just remember that we're all on your side."

 

His earnest expression, as well as his serious tone, helped to reassure her.

 

Still, his colleague did want to show her support as well and hopefully help the young soprano as well.

 

"If I may also say something?" Mrs. Hughes remarked, having been occupying her desk in an effort to distract herself via music theory homework. Mr. Carson nodded, finding this a perfectly acceptable time to make an exception.

 

Mary turned to her other choir teacher, curious as to what the woman would say.

 

"You clearly know your music," She began, gesturing to the fact that Mary's music binder hadn't even been touched - something that had been the case for quite some time. "Now, it's time to show the world just how talented you really are - which is something I know you can do."

 

Simple words, yes.

 

However, they did make a difference.

 

**_._**

 

"So, I'm allowed to talk to her then?" The band director had heard of his repeated request to the choirs today, and decided to be a little facetious in that regards.

 

"In this regard, I will make an exception, yes." Charles sighed to himself, thinking of his interactions with Elsie today. Truly, she seemed rather down energy-wise and did not appear to be looking forward to tonight at all.

 

And while he thought that perhaps helping her rest her voice would help matters, it seemed to be only provide more opportunity for her to get stuck in her head.

 

"Are you alright, Mr. Carson?" He looked up, having not realized his gaze had drifted to the ground.

 

"Perfectly fine, Mrs. Patmore." Charles could only recall Elsie making almost the exact same response just a few hours ago.

 

And by the looks of it, he had been as convincing as she had been.

 

Which is to say, not at all.

 

_._

 

"I see you've still not decided," Elsie looked over at Beryl as the door came to a close, honestly a little taken aback by the woman's sudden appearance. "And, yes, we can talk - Mr. Carson has decided to 'make an exception' just for me."

 

She snorted a little, a bit of life returning at the blunt statement.

 

"I see," She'd been humouring him because it was a valid concern. However, the validity only extended so far and frustration was the price. "And did he tell you how long we were allowed to speak?"

 

"Not specifically, no. After he'd 'made that exception' he'd said something along the lines of," Deepening her voice in a purposefully comical impersonation of their choir director and friend she continued, "'Mrs. Patmore, I give you full permission to speak to Mrs. Hughes - my only request is that you attempt to convey that we are all bursting with excitement to hear her sing tonight and that I personally know that her performance will be exquisite.'"

 

"Did he now?" With a blush beginning to spread, Elsie's gaze now redirected back towards the apparel literally at hand.

 

"He did."

 

Beryl let her friend take that in, hoping that the message got through to her. That, with her words of encouragement, Elsie would let go of whatever was bothering her and just have fun.

 

Though, watching that lip get bitten for probably the twelfth time that day, the woman suspected that was not to be the case.

 

"I think I'm going to disappoint them." It was softly confessed, unusually quiet for the typically assertive woman - the unswervingly confident teacher.

 

So, it looked like old insecurities were coming back.

 

Beryl pulled up a chair to her friend, gently taking both dresses out of the woman's hand and placing them on the chair. She then guided the teacher over to another set of chairs - ones that would not unwittingly stare the apparel down.

 

And it was only once they were settled, quietly sat in 402, that she paused and gave them both a proper moment of silence.

 

_._

 

Charles had been intent on giving the ladies space to have whatever sort of talk they needed to.

 

However, when fifteen minutes had passed and he still had no confirmation as to what he needed to do, the man had decided that he could no longer wait.

 

Well, that is, until he approached 403 and saw what was clearly not a scene meant for his eyes: Elsie was in the middle of receiving a rather comforting hug from Mrs. Patmore, looking as though she had been having a necessary cry.

 

Now, as much as he wanted to barge in and do something to help with the matter, he already knew that he'd only make it worse this time.

 

And, so it was with a somewhat disappointed heart that he forced himself to walk away from the door and leave the two women alone. While there was a hint of relief that Beryl seemed to be getting through to Elsie, it was disappointing that it could not be him doing as such.

 

_._

 

Eventually, tears of stress and insecurities faded. An after a time, they could be soothed away by the peaceful presence of a good friend.

 

Still, the show was to commence in only a couple of hours.

 

And it had to go on, regardless of personal feelings.

 

"So, which one do you  _want_ to wear, Elsie?"

 

For even Beryl could see that the dresses were partially part of the problem. No doubt there were other stressful factors - such as the competitions, managing the fundraising, handling all of Mrs. Butte's duties as well as her own and more, undoubtedly - but it was clear that the dresses sparked some sort of issue. Else she wouldn't be so weighed down by such a decision.

 

The woman quietly sat in her spot, still looking both options over in her mind.

 

On one hand, the black dress spoke of choir teacher that quite literally blended into the background. The performer that has the audience focus solely on the sound and nothing else. The singer who willingly accepted her role as someone who the spotlight should not be drawn to. It would be a comfort, to blend into the background even as she sang, to fade back into the shadows as she performed.

 

On the other hand, the blue dress illustrated the performer who carefully enveloped every aspect of the performance. The teacher who still had more for the world to absorb, the one who was not to be underestimated. The singer the audience would remember for years to come - even if they did not recall every single detail of the song. This brought little comfort, only a certain thrill of nerves that were undecided as to whether or not they should shift into excitement or distress.

 

Furthermore, while this was supposed to be a showcase for both students and staff, propriety dictated that she wear the former. Moreover, her nerves about the whole matter certainly made it clear that blending into the background would help to ease any disappointment.

 

Still, what sort of example would she be setting for her students? Not that they'd be paying much attention, mind. Not that any of this probably mattered - all things considered. She was only one performer out of at least a dozen, there was no need for her to act in such a fashion.

 

Either way, if she continued to hesitate she knew her friend would just go ahead and pick one. So, a decision had to be made, even if she wasn't feeling particularly decisive.

 

Slowly, Elsie stood up. And moving at a very careful  _andantino_ , her hand reached out to grasp one of the two hangers - a clarity building within her the closer she came to holding it.

 

"I was hoping you'd go with that." Beryl's voice brought her back to reality, prompting a light tease.

 

"Really? I never would've guessed." However, there was no real bite to the quip.

 

Nevertheless, before the band director could sound off any sort of retort, the door was being opened.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, I'm so glad I-" Mary trailed off at the sight of the evening gown currently being held. "Please tell me that is your concert attire for tonight, Mrs. Hughes."

 

Beryl quietly chuckled at the shift in tone, tickled by the young soprano's unusually blunt tone.

 

"It is."

 

"Excellent." The young soprano definitely approved of the matter, judging from her unusually firm remark. "And what make-up will you be wearing?"

 

"We normally only do the necessary foundation and maybe a little lipstick. Just a touch of make-up, all in all." Beryl remarked, somewhat amused by Mary's take-charge attitude.

 

"Yes, well, normally your backs are to the audience. But, I'm under strict orders to ensure that Downton's standards are met in every possible fashion." Elsie gave her a look at this, not knowing if these orders were coming from Cora or from Charles. Mary innocently raised an eyebrow in response, revealing nothing. "Simply put, Mrs. Patmore, 'just a touch' won't do for tonight."

 

"And just what are you suggesting?" Elsie was curious herself, having seen previous hints regarding this side of the young soprano. "There's not enough time to shop for more make-up."

 

"No, you're right. There's not enough time for that."

 

"There," Beryl said, pleased that the matter seemed to be settled.

 

"But, you're both in luck." Mary continued, now retrieving her phone. "Just because you don't have more make-up doesn't mean my dear cousin isn't equipped with enough to make this work."

 

"Do you not think that asking for Rose's assistance in the matter is unnecessary?" Elsie interjected as she watched Mary send out a text. "The focus should be on the students, not the faculty."

 

The eldest Crawley looked up from her phone, primly meeting her teacher's gaze.

 

"On the contrary, Mrs. Hughes," It seemed Mary was going to be as polite as she was to be stubborn in this regard. "The focus is on every performer as a whole."

 

"But-" However, it seemed the younger soprano had already received a response.

 

"Rose will be up in a few minutes. And, she has plenty of spare brushes and tools to spare." Mary glanced back at her phone, feeling it buzz once. "In fact, she'll need a hand getting all of her materials up here."

 

"That's encouraging." Beryl unwittingly echoed Elsie's sarcastic thought.

 

"Isn't it?" The eldest Crawley regally met their respective gazes, absolutely determined to get her way in this matter. She then elegantly began to take her leave, in an effort to help her dear cousin get everything up the stairs.

 

Nevertheless, just because Mary was currently departing did not mean she didn't have any commands- words of encouragement.

 

"Oh, and, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore," The two women continued to watch their student, curiosity mixed with rather faint amusement. "Please don't attempt to leave."

 

She gracefully exited, primly heading towards one of the stairwells.

 

"Well, then." Beryl dryly commented, "I'd hate to see what would've happened had you chosen the other dress."

 

Elsie rolled her eyes, not amused. Though, her friend's thought did spark a question of her own.

 

"Speaking of, what will you be wearing?" The band director smiled a little, touched by the question.

 

"Well, now that you mentioned it," She remarked, glancing back in the direction of 444. "It's a little different than what I'd normally wear."

 

"And will Mr. Mason be receiving the honor of witnessing this difference?"

 

"Surprisingly enough, he'll be coming to the reception - Elsie Hughes, just what are you implying?"

 

"Oh, nothing." The choir teacher remarked, her playful grin belying the serious tone.

 

"You know better than to try that with me."

 

This time, it was Elsie who was cut off by the door opening once again.

 

_._

 

"Sybil? What are you doing here?" Mr. Carson had only stepped away to obtain a brief snack from the vending machines - too nervous about performing to do anything else.

 

However, the sight of the young soprano as she guarded the entrance to 403 was distracting enough that all nerves instantaneously left.

 

"Mrs. Patmore and Mary have put me in charge of protecting Mrs. Hughes' virtue." She resolutely replied, moving to continue to block him from entering the room.

 

"'Protecting Mrs. Hughes' virtue?" Not only did the idea seem beyond ridiculous, he had no idea as to what that entailed.

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson. For you see," Sybil glanced back into 403, before continuing to stand her ground. "403 has been turned into a changing room."

 

He spluttered a bit at this, more than a little astounded that they had decided to do as such when there were glass parts attached to both doors - therefore making it possible for anyone to see what was occurring inside. In essence, unlike traditional changing rooms, any performer changing within 403 had no real guarantee of propriety.

 

However, now it made sense as to why Sybil - and Gwen, too, by the looks of the other entrance - were standing guard outside.

 

"I see."

 

_._

 

"What do you mean,  _that's_  the order?"

 

Charles cringed at the staccato-like sound that sprang out at the sight of the set-list, having hoped to have put off this little tidbit of information for a little while longer.

 

"Mr. Carson means just that, Mrs. Hughes," Cora interrupted their backstage conversation - certainly confused by Elsie's bewilderment. After all, the administrator certainly loved the idea of the choir teacher ending the show. "It made perfect sense to those planning the set list to have you end the show."

 

"But, Mrs. Crawley, surely,"

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but the program's have already been printed." Now, the administrator was beginning to show her firmer side. "And I'm afraid that that is going to be that on the matter."

 

"I see."

 

_._

 

"Everything alright, Mrs. Hughes?" Instinctually, she wanted to reassure Gwen that everything was indeed alright - especially seeing as how this would be the young woman's first performance in a duet, let alone her first performance in this capacity. However, Elsie was also not one to placate, especially when the truth was obvious.

 

"Once this performance is over, it will be." She archly confessed, finding herself unusually honest with her student.

 

"I understand. I've got butterflies in my stomach, too." Gwen spoke quietly, knowing that they couldn't be too loud since they were backstage.

 

"Which makes perfect sense."

 

The younger soprano nodded, taking the words to heart as she tried to desperately, silently get rid of her nerves.

 

"You know, maybe," Hesitantly, Gwen began to speak once more, needing something to do. "Maybe, there's a way to take away the butterflies."

 

This, apparently, was not the right thing to say.

 

"No, you don't want to do that. Doing that takes away what makes anything in life worthwhile." The younger woman looked at her teacher, wondering just what she meant by that. However, it looked like she'd be receiving no answers on that front.

 

Though, at the suggestion of getting rid of the butterflies, an old comment came to mind. Something the older woman had not thought about in years.

 

"There is one thing that you can do."

 

"What's that, Mrs. Hughes?" Genuinely intrigued, the second soprano leaned in to hear her teacher even better.

 

Elsie paused a bit, finding it somewhat ironic that she was coaching Gwen on something that she personally still struggled with to this day. Nevertheless, it didn't take away from the advice.

 

"Don't get rid of the butterflies." The choir teacher repeated, recalling the exact words spoken to her at the start of her career. "Make them fly in formation."

 

Gwen nodded, a little too caught up in the fact that she was only about a minute from performing to really hear the phrase. Still, it did sound interesting - even if it didn't really make sense.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes!" She whispered, taking any form of encouragement as Sybil approached the pair - the youngest Crawley sister prepared to perform their duet.

 

"You're welcome. And, please, make sure to have fun!"

 

_._

 

The rolling notes of the piano floated around the two young women as they continued to share their message of friendship and love. Starting off first, Gwen had quietly began the song - slowly gaining confidence the more she continued. Her voice drifted through the higher notes, a nervous breathy quality taking over at times even as Sybil remained by her side on stage.

 

Then, once it was Sybil's turn to sing, she took it with great gusto - soothing away the apprehension that came with being put on the spot.

 

_"How can I keep from singing?"_ The youngest Crawley sister asked the crowd, her gaze smoothly shifting back and forth between Gwen and the audience at hand.

 

All of a sudden, their eyes both seemed to beam a bit more, as fears melted away for what they both loved in the song was approaching.

 

_"When tyrants tremble" "When tyrants tremble"_

_"In their fear," "In their fear,"_

 

The two voices arched through the air, soothingly echoing as they turned to beautifully singing in unison.

 

_"And hear their death knells ringing,"_

 

Splitting off once more like waves of the ocean, the ripples of their voices rose and fell in dynamics - all the while maintaining a lovely forward motion.

 

_"When friends rejoice," "When friends rejoice"_

 

Mr. Carson watched with great delight as the two sopranos began to echo one another, truly beginning to blend their voices for the first time on that stage.

 

_"Both far and near," "Both far and near,"_

_"How can I keep from singing?"_

 

Now, something that felt like a proper duet was beginning to emerge as the pair began to truly enjoy themselves - embracing the simple and elegant harmonies that the song provided.

 

_._

 

_"No storm can shake_

_My inmost calm,"_

 

Elsie quietly kept Beryl company as the woman clutched her trumpet whilst Daisy fidgeted in her seat and Jane Bird kept a close eye on her violin. Their trio of "Pie Jesu" was sure to be delightful, of that she had no doubt.

 

_"While to that rock_

_I'm clinging."_

 

Sybil and Gwen's song was slowly coming to an end, signaling that it would soon be time for her friend to perform.

 

_"It sounds an echo_

_In my soul._

_How can I keep from singing?"_

 

"You'll be brilliant," Elsie softly reassured her dearest friend, absolutely confident in the woman's ability. Beryl gave a small smile, pleased that - even with all the nerves - they could share this.

 

_"It sounds an echo_

_In my soul._

_How can I keep from singing?"_

 

_._

 

The tranquil and gorgeous notes that came with the trio's version of "Pie Jesu" - something the choir teacher never imagined a trumpet of all instruments to accompany - had been rather reassuring.

 

That is, until she realized that she was next.

 

Though, as she rose to her feet one last time for that evening, it seemed she wasn't to face this alone: she felt a familiar presence approach with half a minute to go.

 

"Are you ready?" Charles quietly asked, having felt it was best to give her space until it was time to perform. Elsie turned to him, a hint of a nervous smile in her eyes as she nodded.

 

They continued to stand together in the shadows of the backstage, content to silently enjoy one another's company before their part in the show began.

 

"Well, one thing's for sure," She murmured as the piece ended, somehow being heard over the sound of cheery applause. "We won't be doing the choirs any favours if we hide back here."

 

A chuckle rumbled at this, one that brushed up against her dress and brought a calmer beam to her gaze. For, with his soft laugh came a rather invigorating thought:

 

No matter what happened next, they would be alright.

 

_._

 

As the trio departed from the stage, it seemed as though the final act of the night was to be a little late in making it to the stage. Luckily, it only took a few extra seconds for the final performers of the evening to appear.

 

And once they appeared, it was to an incredibly supportive crowd.

 

An appreciative applause sounded as the woman, dressed in a gorgeous gown shimmering with astonishing shades of blue, took her place along the curve of the piano. Once she was settled, her partner - a man wearing the traditional garments of a conductor - stood by his spot at the piano bench. Both gracefully bowed at the applaud, his being one of pure decorum whilst her held a regal air befitting a  _prima donna_.

 

As the applaud began to settle down, it became apparent that the pair would need a moment to concentrate on the matter at hand. The pianist waited, observing his colleague as she put a hand gently to the piano - her eyes closing and her head tilting towards the ground as she allowed herself to become grounded.

 

Silently, her hand lifted itself from the piano as her eyes opened and gaze lifted once more to face the crowd.

 

It was time to perform.

 

Softly, slowly, the exquisitely haunting sounds of the key of E started to descend upon the space.

 

_._

 

" _If I can stop_

_One heart from breaking,"_

 

Elsie's voice started in a lower range, gradually rising in pitch and volume even as it refrained from crossing past  _mezzo-forte_ just yet.

 

" _I shall not live in vain."_

 

Truly, Charles internally remarked, this song represented her attitude towards life.

 

" _If I can ease one life the aching"_

 

The days spent in her beloved company taught him as much, as well as the times within these last six months that he had observed her help any and every student she could. Metaphors, ideas, her very energy radiated a sense of kindness and support not many found within the world.

 

" _Or cool one pain,"_

 

He could only hope the crowd before them had even an inkling of the truth of the matter: that this was someone who genuinely meant the words she sung. Fortunately, at the very least, they would be impressed by her high notes and her beautiful range - of that he was sure. For now Elsie was beginning to soar into the vocal stratosphere, even though the song was still just getting started.

 

" _Or help one fainting robin_

_Unto his nest again,"_

 

His fingers danced along the piano keys, eager to accompany in any way he could.

 

He is, after all, on her side.

 

" _I shall not live in vain."_

 

The notes spin around her steadying voice, a voice now dipping into the lower depths of a soprano before beginning to swirl back up into the heights of an astonishing range.

 

_._

 

" _If I can stop_

_One heart from breaking,"_

 

She kept her gestures and movements simply, focused purely on elongating the notes with genuine emotion and letting the forward momentum of her voice shoot forth with the purest of intentions: to fill the entire auditorium with entrancing, invigorating sound.

 

" _I shall not live in vain,"_

 

It's true: she was someone who desperately wanted to make a difference. To not only lead her charges forward, but inspire them to lead others as well. It didn't always show, and certainly not when she was stressed out of her mind, but it was and would always remain true.

 

" _If I can ease one life the aching,"_

 

Long forgotten notes, notes that she had only just become reacquainted with in the last few weeks, ached to spring forth. Vibrato was all too willing to assist a body still rusty with practice but quite determined to sing. Tenacity effortlessly gave itself over to a mind that had been fraught with concerns over this performance, a mind that was no longer able to concentrate on anything other than the song at hand.

 

" _Or cool one pain,"_

 

It had been a very long time since she had the chance to convey such freeing notes to a captivated crowd, the act nearly making the whole experience cathartic in a sense. It reminded her that Joe would have wanted her to continue to perform as such, that performing was just as vital to her existence as teaching.

 

And, that - even with her determination to be the best teacher she could be - she truly could afford to live a little for herself.

 

_._

 

" _Or help one fainting robin_

_Unto his nest again."_

 

Goosebumps and shivers observed in awe as the marvelously high notes flew past the ceiling and into the sky - the sounds sustaining themselves with an incredibly effortless energy. So many jaws were gaping if not dropping at the inordinately angelic sound emanating from the woman - a person whom they had unintentionally taken for granted in the few months she'd been a member of the staff.

 

_._

 

" _I shall not live,"_

 

Charles's lovely accompaniment continued to steady her as Elsie prepared herself for the most challenging, and quite possibly the most mesmerizing, part of the solo: the final section. Truly, it was moments like these that reminded her how well they worked together, complementing one another to a level she had never before experienced.

 

And she was so glad that they had begun to recognize that. She was so grateful that their relationship was shifting into something far beyond colleagues and friends, that she would happily take on new challenges as partners quite willing to be stuck together.

 

" _I shall not live,"_

 

Although Elsie wanted to turn to him and only him - in an effort to convey that she would happily go through all of this solo business again, she would even deal with the stresses of the entire school year all over again, so long as he were at her side - she remained focused on the individuals before. For now she had to make the butterflies within her stomach glide purposefully into the space. Now, she had to become as grounded as possible whilst allowing the most enthralling part of the song ring forth.

 

" _In vain,"_

 

The astonishing notes took to the skies, maintaining themselves for a gorgeous and lengthy amount of time as her voice carried itself through the enraptured crowd. She maintained her composure until the final chords of the piano range out - making sure to remain firmly grounded in her presence and resolutely free in her tone.

 

And only once the last chord was struck did Elsie allow herself a smile.

 

_._

 

Daisy was in tears, deeply touched by the sentiment, with Beryl not far behind.

 

Miss Baxter and Joseph were transfixed by it all, having not anticipated quite a performance and shook by it all, to say the least.

 

Thomas seemed unable to look at anyone other than his teacher, still entranced even though he'd already caught a hint of the song earlier this week.

 

William couldn't help but grin in amazement and loudly applaud, having known she'd perform so well even if he'd never personally witnessed her perform a solo before.

 

Andy was mystified to say the least, having not known this was what his teacher could sound like. Now, he really wanted to audition for the Concert Choir - if it was at all possible to get to that level of singing.

 

John nodded to himself, outwardly appearing rather calm even as his inward feelings were far more stupefied. Anna, on the other hand, was openly smiling and cheering in great approval - so very pleased that  _that_ is what ended the show.

 

Mary had arched an eyebrow by the end of it - refusing to reveal just how taken aback she was - whereas Matthew was smiling good-naturedly at this behavior. He, too, heartily clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

 

Edith looked positively stunned whereas Sybil and Tom were giving a rambunctious standing ovation - along with a fair amount of the crowd.

 

Jimmy was resembling a codfish, Alfred mirroring him perfectly as Ivy chose for a widening of the eyes as well as a gaping jaw.

 

Cora looked beyond misty eyed, and Robert was rather close to mirroring the expression.

 

Isobel was on her feet in a heartbeat, enthusiastically adding her applause to the mix.

 

And, Violet?

 

Violet Crawley hadn't been paying attention to her face as the solo progressed. As such, a series of double-takes, varying eyebrow raises, and looks of incredulity had taken hold of the woman throughout various parts of the song.

 

However, now that the performance had ended, her features were schooled into a prim and confident expression - her accompanying words equally as sure of themselves.

 

"I always knew that Mrs. Hughes held talent."

 

Isobel swiveled around to her colleague, disbelief radiating from every fiber of her being. Violet acknowledged the look by meeting her colleague's eyes and sending her an imposing look of self-assurance.

 

"Mr. Carson only chooses to work with the best."

 

Isobel wanted to point out that it was  _she_ who hired Elsie all those months ago - not Mr. Carson. She also wanted to bring up the fact that it was  _she_ who essentially gave Elsie permission to create an  _a cappella_ choir.

 

However, Isobel also recognized that she was dealing with Violet Crawley. That Violet Crawley was rather set in her ways, backwards as they may seem at times.

 

In any case, this particular battle was not worth the migraine that would ensue.

 

_._

 

As the crowd continued to envelope the space with their rigorous standing ovation, Charles stood with them - joining in the enthusiastic applause.

 

It was only then that Elsie turned towards the piano, having heard the sound of his own clapping. And once she had realized who was applauding, it was with a bright and gracious twinkle blending into her demeanor that she recalled old habits and gestured for the audience to applaud for him as well.

 

Still, he couldn't hear a bit of the applause because she was now looking at him in such a manner that his mind blocked out everything else.

 

The stage lights hitting her dress caused equivalents of overtones to shoot out - cerulean, periwinkle, azure, all these colors glowed around her as she continued to meet his gaze. Her trusting smile, equally magnificent as the dress, glowed with surprised happiness - relief twirling around and crinkling the corners of her eyes.

 

And still, it wasn't those magnificent mixture of blues that captivated him. Nor was it her beauty - something so obvious and so breathtaking in a moment such as this.

 

Rather, what captivated him in this moment was the loving expression she held for him only when their eyes met.

 

There had been an almost indiscernible sense of shock within them - one that came from realizing the audience thoroughly enjoyed what she undoubtedly deemed a simple solo. Worse still, he could see herself wanting to bite her lip, clearly wanting to shy away from it all - having not been in such a position in at least half a decade, if his knowledge of her career was correct.

 

However, any traces of bewilderment had vanished once they caught sight of one another.

 

Instead, there came an awareness that it was their combined efforts, their ever-growing partnership, that brought this about. And it was this awareness that soothed away all insecurities - all fears.

 

That's when Charles came to one more conclusion. One that Elsie seemed to concur with as she walked towards him - beckoning the choir director to gracefully follow her as they exited the stage.

 

"I think that went fairly well," She lightly whispered, clearly still caught in the emotions that always followed an exhilarating performance. No matter, he would save his revelation for a later date. "Though, there were a few moments I'm still not too pleased about-"

 

_Well, this will simply not do._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He interrupted, gently guiding her towards a section of the backstage area where they would not be easily observed. "Before you begin your self-critique, I'd like to share with you my thoughts on the performance."

 

"Oh?" She looked at him, quite curious. "My, my - I hadn't been expecting a critique from you just yet."

 

"But, that's the point." Elsie now looked rather confused, not sure where he was leading with his statement.

 

Well, he could've continued to explain that he had no real critique for her - that he honestly thought her performance to be quite splendid. That there hadn't been a clear flaw or correction to make, that he'd much rather clarify just how brilliant it had been.

 

However, talking really only got him so far. So, instead of responding with some sort of reassurance or platitude, he could only give a chaste kiss - hoping she'd understand the meaning behind.

 

Judging from the way chastity soon gave way to something stronger, it appeared to be that the message was received as intended.

 

And when they parted to breathe, neither having expected such a moment, they could only stand quietly in the shadows - oblivious to proceedings that always followed the end of a performance.

 

Eventually, though, a response had to be given. A step did have to be taken.

 

"Charles," She softly began to ask, "Would you mind repeating your thoughts on the matter?"

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Patmore, did you see Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?" Several of the students had found the woman and converged on the spot she stood - in order to congratulate and interrogate her, of course.

 

"I haven't seen either of them since the performance." Beryl confessed, having been a little confused by their absence. "Though, I suppose they're getting prepared for the reception."

 

"Of course," Daisy concurred, as the other students murmured other versions of agreement.

 

"Well, if you see them before we do," Alfred piped up, "Please tell them that we thought their performance was absolutely brilliant."

 

"As well as yours and Daisy's and Mrs. Bird's!" Ivy chimed in before Alfred could continue to accidentally insult the band director.

 

Beryl resisted the urge to snort at the attempt to smooth things over, having found this whole interaction to be entertaining in more ways than one.

 

"I'll be sure to do as such."

 

See, she had the funniest feeling that Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were not focused on the reception in the slightest.

 

At least, for the next few minutes.

 

_._

 

Gwen had only been intent on making sure her phone hadn't been left backstage - for she had placed it down somewhere in the middle of the show.

 

However, having noticed two rather familiar figures hidden in one of the many nooks of the backstage area, she figured she'd check tonight's dressing room first.

 

_._

 

"Before you two can go to the reception," Beryl had eventually found them, content to ignore the fact that they had disappeared for a solid twenty minutes. "You need to wear something a little more appropriate."

 

She gestured to Mr. Carson's conductor attire, having been rather disappointed that he'd been firm on wearing it for the show - even after they'd purchased new attire for him.

 

"And you," Beryl continued, eyeing her friend with a hint of mirth. "Need to fix your make-up. But, unfortunately, as Mrs. Bird reminded me only five minutes ago, I'm already late in grabbing my nephew. So I won't be able to help."

 

"But why bring a child to a reception like this? Surely, there are better things for him to do."

 

"Since I'm in charge of him until his mum gets back, I can't leave him unattended. And nobody was available to babysit." She sighed, looking a little frustrated. "Believe me, Mr. Carson, I had no intention of bringing Archie to this."

 

"I'm sure," Charles started, though Elsie soon placed a hand on his arm - not wanting this to escalate when they were doing so well.

 

"Yes, well, we best be getting ready." She said, "We'll be sure to see you at the reception!"

 

"If you're not there within the next forty minutes, I'll be sending Mrs. Bird to investigate!"

 

_._

 

"Do you suppose Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are alright?" Sybil asked Gwen, looking around the crowd in search of her favourite teachers.

 

"I'm sure they're perfectly fine." Gwen responded, not necessarily wanting to really give the matter much thought.

 

_._

 

When they had finally made it to the reception, it was with a sense of relief that Elsie realized Beryl was within spitting distance of the entrance.

 

"And who might this young man be?" She approached the pair with curiosity, having never met her friend's nephew before.

 

"Archie, this is Mrs. Hughes and Mr.-"

 

"Hughes! Mr. Hughes!" With all the excitement a seven-and-a-half boy could muster, Archie Philpotts eagerly proclaimed this statement to the entire world.

 

The result was instantaneous:

 

Charles was the color of the carpet, Beryl was dying of laughter, and Elsie looked as though she were crossed between experiencing both reactions.

 

"Well, actually, Archie,"

 

"I take it we are to refer to you as 'Mr. Hughes'?" All hilarity ceased at the sound of Violet Crawley's regal tone. Now, the blushing man was as still as stone, the band director now practically wheezing out silent giggles, and the only other choir teacher was as frozen as her companion.

 

"Well, that  _is_  his name!" Archie continued to respond, oblivious to the situation before him.

 

_A braver boy never existed_ , Elsie thought to herself as she watched him continue in his declarations.

 

"Archie," Beryl began to regain her decorum, now remembering just who her nephew was speaking to.

 

"No, no, I understand perfectly well." Violet said, somewhat amused by the interaction. She then turned to the choir director. "Well,  _Mr._ and Mrs. Hughes, I would personally like to congratulate you both on a riveting performance tonight." She turned to the band director. "And, you were, of course, a treat to listen to as well, Mrs. Patmore. Truly, I've never encountered such a version of 'Pie Jesu'."

 

But, whether that was a compliment or insult would never be known:

 

Violet was already in the process of regally departing, heading off to converse with some of the other receptions guests and leaving the three adults shell shocked in her wake.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson!" A woman they'd never spoke to before was beginning to approach them both - accompanied by Cora. "May I present one of our honored guests this evening,"

 

Ah, yes, the part they were both preparing for and dreading: socializing with the people who could quite possibly help pay for the rest of the choirs to go abroad.

 

Here's hoping their collective charm and wit won their cause at least £1,000 more pounds.

 

And, if that couldn't be managed, here's hoping they got a chance to continue congratulating one another on a job well done. For that at least should be worth much more than any donations procured throughout the evening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:
> 
> One showcase down, two competitions and a concert to go! And, now, I hope you have more of an understanding as to why I chose the title I did for this story :)
> 
> And finally, I think - to give good quality chapters that are also lengthier, I'm going to have to update once a week for the time being. That may go back to twice-thrice times a week, but for now I don't want to unwittingly break any promises or expectations when it comes to updating.
> 
> In any case, thank you so much for your patience! And have a fabulous day :)


	22. Silver Swans and Sight Singing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19: Make sure you've checked out Chapter 19, if you haven't already read it!
> 
>  
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
>  
> 
> Very Long and Specific Author's Note That Will Help To Understand This Chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> While the following is fictitious, there are parts that have been inspired by several competitions/proceedings I've been a witness to. Nevertheless, in regards to the faculty/teachers/people, any resemblance to real people is completely unintentional/coincidental.
> 
> Moreover, although I know that Midsomers Murder (another awesome British TV show) is supposed to take place in Oxfordshire, for the purpose of giving you all the length of a proper choral competition I'm relocating them to Yorkshire for next ten thousand words or so...
> 
> Also! The traditional way I mark the various segments within the story is going to be substituted with timestamps for this chapter. Furthermore, pay special attention to the timestamps.While there will be an overall linear set-up, that's not always the case with this chapter!
> 
> Furthermore! Many characters get to share their feelings about competitions/specific competition songs within this chapter. Please note that I myself enjoy all of the songs and do not support every character's view on the matter - *cough* looking at you, Jimmy *cough*.
> 
>  
> 
> And, finally, all of today's competition songs are listed below. The songs themselves will be listed on the left, the phrase to look up to listen to them on the right. And the ~~~ is what separates them:
> 
>  
> 
> "Benedictus" by Brian Lewis ~~~ Benedictus - Concert Choir Women
> 
> "Bring Me Little Water, Silvy" by Moira Smiley ~~~ Lane Tech 2018 Winter Concert Bring me Little Water, Silvy
> 
> "The Vagabond" by Ralph Vaughan Williams ~~~ USC Apollo Men's Chorus: "The Vagabond" by Ralph Vaughan Williams arr. Clarence C. Robinson
> 
> "Widerspruch" by Franz Schubert ~~~ Franz Schubert - Widerspruch D. 865 for Male Chorus & Piano
> 
> "Bloom" by Phillip Silvey- Downton Academy Bel Canto ~~~ Philip Silvey's 'Bloom' performed by The Festival
> 
> "The Pelican" arranged by Randall Thompson ~~~ 2010-06 DV The Pelican.m2t
> 
> "Psallite" as arranged by Michael Praetorius ~~~ Psallite vancouver chamber choir
> 
> "Lux Aurumque" by Eric Whitacre ~~~ Light and Gold: Lux Aurumque - Eric Whitacre
> 
> "Silent Noon" by Ralph Vaughan Williams ~~~ USC Apollo Men's Chorus: "Silent Noon" by Ralph Vaughan Williams arr. Matthew D. Nielsen
> 
> "I Have Had Singing" by Ron Jeffers ~~~ The Singing Statesmen - I Have Had Singing - Ron Jeffers
> 
> "The Turtle Dove" by Ralph Vaughan Williams ~~~ Ralph Vaughan Williams - The Turtle Dove (Tenebrae)
> 
> "How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place" ~~~ 2015 SD Senior Honor Choir - How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place
> 
> "Dirait-on" by Morten Lauridsen ~~~ Dirait-on. Morten Lauridsen
> 
> "The Silver Swan" by Orlando Gibbons ~~~ [choral music score] The Silver Swan - Orlando Gibbons
> 
> "Vox Populi" by Giedrius Svilainis ~~~ Vox Populi (Giedrius Svilainis) - Baylor University Concert Choir 2011
> 
> "Set Me As A Seal" by Rene Clausen ~~~ Set me as a Seal - Rene Clausen - The National Lutheran Choir
> 
> "Die Himmel Erzt Zahlen" by Joseph Haydn ~~~ Die Himmel erzahlem die Ehre Gottes (Joseph Haydn) - National Taiwan University Chorus
> 
> "Flight of the Bumblebee"' Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov ~~~ Flight of the Bumblebee Hersey High School March 4, 2016
> 
> "O Clap Your Hands Together" by Orlando Gibbons ~~~ O Clap Your Hands Together - Gibbons

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 4:45am** _

 

It was with a groggy air that Elsie Hughes woke up to the sound of her screeching alarm. It was still dark outside, dark enough to feel every ounce of weariness from the merriment of the previous night. Performing on the stage, socializing with all the donors and students afterwards, dancing with Charles and countless others, staying on her feet for more hours than she wanted to know, it all led to a rather tiring state of existence afterwards.

 

For instance, in this moment, all she wanted was to roll over in bed and sleep the rest of the day away. Possibly think about the adorable "Mr. Hughes" incident with Archie and dream about that a bit, if not settle for just falling back asleep and getting at least an hour's worth of sleep.

 

But then she remembered which day it was.

 

As well as what she, Charles, and three of their choirs would be doing in a short while.

 

Once such recollections occurred, any further thought of rest was impossible to retrieve.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 04:46am** _

 

Charles had already been awake for an unknown amount of time, though this was the first time in ages that he hadn't made any attempts to move out of bed. Although there were the obligations of action that came with such a day, he still craved for a chance to lay down for a little longer. After all the night prior had been such a success - in raising money for the trip, overall performances,  _and_ when it came to enjoying himself - that he wanted to bask in those accomplishments for at least a few more minutes.

 

Especially if it allowed time to reminiscence about being referred to as to "Mr. Hughes". As mortified as he may have seemed in the moment, the idea thrilled him - even if the details were not quite correct.

 

Still, it was the principle of the matter that counted in this instance.

 

_And,_ Charles thought to himself as he slowly rose out of bed,  _it's a principle that counts for quite a bit._

 

Now, eventually, this recollection reminded him of just whom he'd be seeing if he did get the day officially started.

 

Naturally, that immediately prompted deliberate action to get the day properly started.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**05:43am** _

 

"Rose? Do you want to check your social media pages today?" Having been entrusted with the care of Rose whilst she attended Downton Academy, Cora was curious to see how the young woman's efforts with fundraising were going.

 

"I'm sure I'll be able to at the school. As it is, I just set Mrs. Hughes's video to post later today, so nothing new should happen 'till later."

 

"Don't you mean you've posted it?" The administrator asked, a little confused by Rose's phrasing.

 

"Not quite," The young woman smiled brightly, pleased that someone in the household was asking her about it. "On Youtube, I've set it to 'premiere'. Basically, it means that people'll will know about it in advance and the suspense builds. It's cool - apparently a lot of our viewers recognized her and wanted to hear her perform something again. So, the premiere helps the video get even more attention than it'd normally."

 

Cora nodded a little, feeling somewhat outdated the further Rose began to talk. Still, it clearly meant a lot to the young woman to be acknowledged, and so she could do that.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 6:19am** _

 

Having not been able to nullify the new requirement, Phoebe had settled for trying to intercept the music before it arrived. In this instance, she'd have to take matters into her own hands.

 

Literally.

 

"Oh, Phoebe," Emma cheerfully greeted her, already guarding the stack of boxes rather protectively. "The sight-reading music arrived!"

 

"The 'sight-reading music'?" She easily feigned ignorance, pretending to have no idea about the matter in a futile effort to stall.

 

"Don't tell me you forgot about our discussion?" Emma asked. "You did promise you'd personally take care of settling everything with sight-reading," She reminded her friend of so many years.

 

"It seems I forgot," Phoebe lied, preparing herself for any sort of reprimand in return.

 

However, it seemed the arrival of the sheet music made it easy for Emma to forgive her friend this time.

 

"No matter. It's here now, so it all worked out."

 

She resisted the urge to scowl, not truly being of the belief that this situation was, in fact, working out.

 

"Indeed."

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 08:04am** _

 

Carlisle Institute really was a very dreary building, standing at five stories tall and looking almost like a prison. The somber grey bricks spoke of a history that was not necessarily as respectable as it should be, but one that was certainly that had left its mark in academia.

 

Well, she was hardly impressed.

 

And she had no qualms about informing her walking companion as such. Nor did she take any issue with interrogating said walking companion on the subject of the institution.

 

"Why did you come here in the first place?" Mary asked Matthew, still surprised by this school decision of his.

 

"Scholarship and a need to get away from my family's expectations." The tenor confessed, having felt rather ashamed of his answer for quite some time now. She nodded, somewhat understanding his motivation even if she personally wouldn't have made it.

 

Still, just because she never wanted to go to Carlisle Institute didn't mean she'd always wanted to go to Downton.

 

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Mary confessed. "I remember almost making a similar decision when it came to schooling."

 

That actually surprised him; the eldest Crawley sister always seemed to be a fan of Downton, regardless of what went on within the school.

 

"What changed your mind?"

 

The soprano looked at her teachers, the very individuals now guiding them into what looked to be the building's entrance. Specifically, her eyes followed the choir director as she continued to converse with Matthew.

 

"I realized that I was going to get far more support and far more chances to grow at Downton than anywhere else."

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 08:31am** _

 

When he realized that they'd have to go to Carlisle Institute for the first competition, he'd been upset to say the least. He knew that meant they'd probably be running into  _her_ at some point, and that was something he never wanted to do again.

 

But, here the choirs were, walking into the place as though they wanted to be here. Luckily, she hadn't approached them yet, though any moment now-

 

"Andy," The tenor stiffened at the approach of his least favorite person on Earth, feeling as though he should've known better than to think he had a chance of avoiding her.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Butte?" He braced himself for whatever malice she was going to blend into a sugary tone today, unwilling turning towards the woman.

 

"I was wondering how your class registration went - did you figure out your new schedule for the next year?"

 

The challenge was clear:

 

_Will you be dropping music like I advised? Or are you going to remain foolish on the matter?_

 

Well, he had an answer for her.

 

"I have," Andy stared her down, challenging her authority without saying a word.

 

"Well?" Emma had to admit, she was somewhat curious. He was one of the worst vocal culprits for those choirs, in her opinion. So, it was with a sense of pride that she acknowledged the fact that he'd soon be leaving - and all thanks to her.

 

"I have decided to audition for the Mixed Choir."

 

She couldn't help her gaping in horror at this, though it did cause him to really almost smirk in a manner reminiscent quite of Thomas.

 

Truly, they were probably spending too much time together by this point.

 

But, Andy didn't really mind. He'd take a friend like Thomas over a teacher like Mrs. Butte any day.

 

"Yup. And, I'm sorry, Mrs. Butte, but I do Mr. Carson is calling us over before everything begins." It wasn't quite a lie; Mr. Carson really had wanted the undivided attention of the choirs before the competition.

 

However, he'd asked for their undivided attention to be given about ten minutes ago - not now.

 

Still, Mrs. Butte didn't need to know that.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 8:36am** _

 

"Now, everyone, we are to head towards the back section of the auditorium. It's right down this hallway. Look for the seats marked for Downton Academy, and make sure to sit in  _only_ those seats!"

 

"Is there a seat for me, Mr. Carson?" He internally jolted upon hearing the cheeky inquiry, quickly pivoting around to face the woman who boldly asked it.

 

"Beryl- Mrs. Patmore, what are you doing here?" The band director's appearance at the competition had been a surprised, though not one that went unappreciated.

 

"Can't I come to support two of my friends in their music efforts?" Beryl asked, taken aback by the question.

 

"What Mr. Carson means, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie quickly stepped in, having been more than a little shocked that Charles had accidentally started to address Beryl in such a fashion. It had to imply that he was a good deal more distracted and stressed today than she realized. "Is that we weren't expecting the support. However, it is greatly appreciated."

 

"I'm sure it is." She responded, looking over her friends to ascertain their current level of sanity - something that choir teachers rarely had on days like these. "Now, what can I do to help?"

 

"There's nothing much to be done." Elsie honestly replied, not sure as to how Beryl could help them - having never done one of these competitions from the teacher's perspective.

 

"You sure about that?" The band director asked, having caught someone approaching them. "Only, I think you're going to need some help in about a minute."

 

"What do you mean?" Charles asked, having been focused on making sure the students were all heading towards their section within the institute's auditorium.

 

"Ms. Hughes, Mr. Carson, we're so glad you could make it!"

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March,** _ _**2019, 8:37am** _

 

Emma Butte brightly greeted the pair of the choir teachers with immensely false cheeriness, taking great pleasure in causing them both to abruptly stiffen at her voice.

 

"Mrs. Butte," Charles began in a somewhat neutral voice, a little surprised at the harsh anger that rose within him at the sight of her. He'd been intent on carrying complete professionalism today, an idea that was thrown out the window as he gracefully pivoted around to catch sight of the former colleague.

 

And he wasn't the only one who looked rather incensed to see the woman again. Elsie, who had smoothly whirled around once she collected her bearings, seemed to straighten up with displeasure. Blue eyes turned towards a stormy sort of wrath the closer the woman got, hands threatening to wring themselves as the footsteps were only a second or two away from stopping.

 

But before he - or Elsie, for that matter - could say anything else, they were already being silenced.

 

"I know, I know, you weren't expecting such an 'enriching' requirement at the last second," She remarked in a peppy manner, "But I'm sure your choirs will be able to muster themselves through this just as well as they've mustered through the last two semesters."

 

"What do you mean, an 'enriching requirement'?" Elsie refrained from snapping, but just barely. Not only did Emma know that was one of the choir director's favorite terms of expression, she seemed to be relishing in pettily throwing the term back at them.

 

"Oh, don't tell me, Mr. Carson," Emma outright ignored Elsie, focusing solely on her former boss. "Hasn't Francesca or Phoebe informed you of the additional requirement to compete today?"

 

At his frosty expression, her stony smile widened.

 

"Apparently not. Please, follow me." She gestured in the direction of her new office. "We've got fifteen minutes before it all begins, that's more than enough time to inform you of the changes."

 

As much as Elsie wanted to say something rather unprofessional in response, she focused on informing Beryl that the students were all to be in their seats long before they returned from Mrs. Butte's supposed office. She focused on that and remaining as calm as possible.

 

"I suppose there is something you can do, after all." She irritatedly noted, not at all pleased that they'd be requiring the band director's help.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:38am** _

 

Phoebe had not been left alone with the sight-reading music throughout the entire time she'd been at Carlisle that morning, having been relegated to trivial tasks that took her all over the building.

 

Nevertheless, when Phoebe Miller was on a mission, she would do everything she could to complete that mission.

 

Therefore, with a purpose that had her striding towards the sheet music still boxed up - why they were still boxed up with about twenty minutes left to the competition escaped her - the woman continued to calculate all the alternatives that would get them out of this situation.

 

Outright stealing wouldn't work, nor would accidentally damaging some of the copies. She didn't need to open the box to see that there were far too many pieces of sheet music for any sort of damage to make a difference.

 

Well, either way, the packing seals had already been broken. So it wasn't as though she'd be damaging any of the boxes in an effort to see what Emma had selected.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:43am** _

 

"What do you mean, the students are to sight-sing today?" To say Mr. Carson was vexed by such news was to say that it occasionally rained in Scotland. Still, this looked to be something that only prompted Mrs. Butte's frigid smile to shift into a saccharine grin. "You know as well as I that this has never been required of them before."

 

"I'm afraid, Mr. Carson, that there have been many changes this year - sight-singing being one of them."

 

"But, surely," Mrs. Hughes verbally stepped in, unwilling to let this sudden requirement stand unchallenged. "It is an unfair advantage to all competing schools to be put on the spot in this fashion."

 

"I'm really am afraid, Ms. Hughes, that it's a part of the registration contract that all choirs had to sign in order to compete."

 

Both choir director and teacher stilled in their own ways - irritated being quite the understatement when it came to their current attitude. It's not as though the students couldn't handle being thrown into sight-singing - sight-singing was something Downton had them practice on a weekly basis. Nevertheless, to hurl such a requirement at the choirs at the literal last minute was inordinately unfair and everyone in the room knew it.

 

"Mrs. Butte," Mr. Carson began, incensed enough he was ready to lecture his former colleague in regards to competition propriety.

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?" She was all smiles and sweetness, and so frustratingly obvious in her efforts to stir the pot. "Is there something you wish to say?"

 

The choir director remained silent, wanting to release the ire he was holding but still able to see that she was goading him - that she was prodding and poking him into into saying something he'd regret.

 

The problem was simple: no one could maintain quiet decorum with such a simpering smirk before them.

 

And, soon enough, Charles would break.

 

" _I_ have something to say." With her brogue angrily slicing into her normally polite tone, Elsie finally spoke up.

 

"Really, Ms. Hughes?"

 

"Yes." Ignoring her colleague's concerned look, his hands desperately twitching to regain the silence he'd previously instilled, the Scottish Dragon fixed her eyes directly on the woman before her and sent her a glare that would have had Violet Crawley paling.

 

And for one fraction of a second, Emma's smirk faltered.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:41am** _

 

 

"Oh, this will simply  _not_ do." Having scanned the selected music with growing irritation, Phoebe's boss radiated immense acrimony.

 

"I must apologize, Francesca: there was a mistake in our purchase."

 

"When Emma had explained your plan, she repeatedly assured me that the level of difficulty would be fair." After all, they were hosting this competition to prove that they were not quite the ruthless academy everyone presumed them to be. While ambition was to be commended,  _this_ was not ambition.

 

"And Verdi's 'Requiem' is hardly fair." Phoebe lightly commented, "Clearly there was a mistake made with the order."

 

Francesca nodded, though she hardly looked reassured by the matter. Frankly, how could 100 copies of Verdi's "Requiem" be ordered by accident?

 

Worse still, there could only be one conclusion the choir director could make - all things considered. And that conclusion was not one she cared for.

 

However, before she could presume as such, the woman needed one last confirming piece of evidence.

 

"Where is Emma?"

 

Phoebe internally backed away at the quietly spoken inquiry. It was a tone she rarely heard from her boss, a tone that reminded her of the Institute's high standards toward foolish behavior, and a tone that did not bode well for the colleague in question.

 

"I think she mentioned something about needing to drop by her office for a moment."

 

"I see."

 

Oh, yes, Emma was definitely not going to get out of trouble this time - if Francesca's voice was anything to go by. "Yes, well, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Phoebe. I trust I can count on you to hold the fort for the next few minutes? Possibly make the starting announcements, if need be?"

 

"Of course."

 

Well, she had warned her friend to let this matter go. However, it seemed Emma had to learn the hard way how important it is to let go of such matters.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:42am** _

 

"Mrs. Patmore, where are Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_Beats me._

 

Beryl refrained from saying as such to Ivy, not really in the mood to distress the younger singer anymore than necessary. Though, even had the band director tried to give some sort of platitude or reassure, it would have done nothing for the younger singer.

 

Still, didn't mean she couldn't give it a shot.

 

"They'll be here in just a few minutes, Ivy." The Bel Canto singer gave a hum of acknowledgement at this, clearly not feeling any less stressed. "It'll all be fine."

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore."

 

Well, it was clear that her words of comfort didn't really have an impact in the current situation. As she could have and already had guessed.

 

Yet, strangely enough, that didn't bother the band director. Instead, Beryl found her thoughts drifting towards conjuring up just what could possibly be delaying her two friends. Considering the competition would be starting momentarily, it didn't seem likely that they were held up by choice.

 

Still, let's just say that if the pair wanted their choirs to do half as well as they normal, they'd need to be here in less than five minutes.

 

And if they didn't want hysteria to begin to overtake the singers of Downton Academy, they'd need to be here in three.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:45am** _

 

The sounds of a familiar voice sharply emanated from Emma's door, a voice that Francesca had never had the pleasure of witnessing in its current manner of speaking.

 

"And, furthermore, when you speak of these ' _requirements_ '," The infuriated Scottish woman continued to indignantly lecture whoever was inside the office, loud and irate enough to be heard quite easily from Francesca's spot outside the office.

 

Whether the lecture was deserved or not, it would have to end for the sake of Carlisle's reputation.

 

Francesca sharply knocked on the door, silencing Mrs. Hughes - who had apparently taken control of whatever conversation had been going on behind the closed door.

 

"Enter," Emma spoke, with more than the tiniest hints of hesitation dipping into her voice. Francesca waiting took this as her cue to open the door. "Ah, Francesca,"

 

"Emma," She spoke warmly, knowing better than to act in any other fashion with the company currently inside the office. "Were you just informing Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes of the change in program?"

 

"'Change in program'?"

 

"Yes. Unfortunately, as the sight-reading music was only available for review this morning, we just now discovered the mistake in our order."

 

"'Mistake in our order'?"

 

Truly, if she was going to remain at Carlisle Institute for longer than the term, Emma Butte would have to learn how to sound far calmer about the matter. And quit repeating everything.

 

"Indeed. It appears that we were given the wrong shipment. The music received is far too advanced for sight-reading of this level. Therefore, that portion of the competition has been nullified and none of the competing choirs are required to partake in it." She politely explained, watching the energy change within the room.

 

"My, my," Mrs. Hughes, a woman who Francesca liked from the moment she met her earlier this morning, lightly commented. The anger was by no means gone, but it had been restrained into a more polite tone - one that recognized there was no point to further, though undoubtedly justified, lectures.

 

Mr. Carson, on the other hand, looked as though he were debating about asking a question. It seemed, though he had his own indignation, that he'd been distracted by something Francesca had said.

 

"I take it, we won't be allowed to use this sight-reading material as practice?"

 

Mrs. Hughes's decorum was momentarily tossed aside in favor of shooting her colleague a look of pure vexation. However, Francesca Barnes had long since accepted that Mr. Carson was devoted to using any opportunity to practice "enriching" the lives of his students - even if his students weren't necessarily all that interested.

 

"I'm sure something could be arranged. Now, if you'll excuse us," Francesca kindly said to the two teachers. They recognized the dismissal for what it was and nodded, politely exiting the room.

 

Once the door closed behind them and the footsteps outside receded, Carlisle Institute's choir director sent a frosty gaze at her employee - effortlessly conveying her true feelings about what has been transpiring.

 

"Now, Emma," Her icy tone informed the woman that there would be no beating around the bush with this. "Would you care to explain just what it was you were thinking?"

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:48am** _

 

"Where were you?" Beryl quickly whispered, hurrying them towards their spots in the audience, the pair having returned just it in time.

 

"It doesn't matter." Elsie quietly brushed off the interrogation-in-the-making, still feeling the effects of her anger towards Emma even as she continued to focus on the task at hand.

 

Her friend sent her a look, one that said she wasn't going to drop the subject, but let go of any further interrogation for the time being. They'd chat about this later.

 

Now, it was time to compete.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 8:59am** _

 

 

Mary glanced down at the set list for what was possibly the fifteenth time in the last twenty minutes. Having stolen- borrowed Matthew's copy upon entering the auditorium, she had went about memorizing the set-up the moment she could. All the programs had been taken by the time she'd made it to the auditorium, so what was a singer to do in a case like this?

 

Either way, here she was and here was her gazing spying the unofficial set list once again:

 

"Benedictus" (Brian Lewis) - Midsomer's Women's Choir

"Bring Me Little Water, Silvy" (Moira Smiley) - Midsomer's Women's Choir

"The Vagabond" (Ralph Vaughan Williams) - Neal & Grigg's Men's Choir

"Widerspruch" (Franz Schubert) - Neal & Grigg's Men's Choir

"Bloom" (Phillip Silvey)- Downton Academy's Bel Canto

"The Pelican" (Randall Thompson)- Downton Academy's Bel Canto

"Psallite" (Michael Praetorius) - Grey Conservatory's Intermediate Ensemble

"Lux Aurumque" (Eric Whitacre) - Grey Conservatory's Intermediate Ensemble

"Silent Noon" (Ralph Vaughan Williams)- Downton Academy's Bass Choir

"I Have Had Singing" (Ron Jeffers)- Downton Academy's Bass Choir

"The Turtle Dove" (Ralph Vaughan Williams) - Strallan's Combined Choir

"How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place" (Johanne Brahms) - Strallan's Combined Choir

"Dirait-on" (Morten Lauridsen) - Grey Conservatory's Advanced Ensemble

"The Silver Swan" (Orlando Gibbons) - Grey Conservatory's Advanced Ensemble

"Vox Populi" (Giedrius Svilainis) - Downton Academy's Concert Choir

"Set Me As A Seal" (Rene Lausen) - Downton Academy's Concert Choir

"The Silver Swan" (Orlando Gibbons) - Neal & Grigg's Chambers Choir

"Die Himmel Erzt Zahlen" (Joseph Haydn) - Neal & Grigg's Chambers Choir

"Flight of the Bumblebee" (Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov) - Midsomer's Concert Choir

"O Clap Your Hands Together" (Orlando Gibbons) - Midsomer's Concert Choir

 

She had already noticed that both Neal & Griggs Center for the Arts and Grey Conservatory of Music were planning to perform the same song, Gibbons' "The Silver Swan". However, other than unintentional repeat, there appeared to be no other similar mistakes.

 

Though, when it came to the set list itself, Mary wasn't entirely sure that she would have personally chosen some of the-

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The woman now taking full control of the mic on stage unapologetically stole Mary's attention away from further perusal the set list. "My name is Phoebe Miller and may I just say what a privilege it is for Carlisle Institute to host the 22nd Youths of Yorkshire Choral Competition."

 

Most of the auditorium, her family included, gave a lovely applause as the woman began to start the show. However, Mary was too distracted by picturing the next several hours and wondering what would happen this time around to listen.

 

Downton Academy, Neal & Grigg's Center for the Arts, Grey Conservatory of Music, The Strallan School of Arts, Midsomer's Music Academy, all of these schools have been competing against one another for many years now, to the point where Mary recognized a fair amount of the students from every choir.

 

"Now, please, let's give a warm round of applause for The Midsomer's Music Academy's Women's Choir!"

 

_Right. Let's get to it, then._

 

After all, she was not one to hold back any sort of criticism at these types of events.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:03am** _

 

 

Charles had to admit that, after the morning he'd had, he needed the soothing tones of "Benedictus".

 

However, it was clear within the first minute of their arriving on stage that the Women's Ensemble of Midsomer was quite nervous about being first. Understandably so; it was rarely an easy or enjoyable spot to be in.

 

Regardless, he could only hope that they'd relax by the end of this - the trepidation in their eyes reflected in their tone and their breathing.

 

_"Benedictus,"_

 

Apparently, relaxation was not going to play a hand in the next few minutes.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:05am** _

 

Elsie had politely clapped along with the rest of the crowd as the ladies of Midsomer finished their rendition of "Benedictus". However, at the sight of the pitch pipe now appearing on stage, she immediately sat up and paid much closer attention - unaware that her actions caused both of her seating companions to fondly smile in response.

 

As the pitch sounded and the ladies began to hum, the air on stage took a far more joyful tone - one that was far more invested in enjoying itself.

 

And once the young women began to clap, bringing movement the stage alongside their voices, the choir teacher would even swear she saw smiles begin to peek through.

 

_"Bring me little water, Silvy,_

_Bring me little water now."_

 

Elsie refrained from clapping along to or mirroring the actions of the ladies just yet, not wanting to give Mr. Carson a heart attack when they were only a few songs away from going up on stage. Nevertheless, she did decide she loved this song and would be incorporating it into one the choirs' future set lists.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:08am** _

 

All too soon, Daisy realized that Bel Canto was being ushered out of their seats and towards the back of the auditorium - so as to enter the stage at the appropriate time.

 

She had wanted more time to at least enjoy the music, having liked the last song the Midsomer's women had put on. But, judging from the look Mrs. Patmore was firing in her direction, it seemed like she was out of time on that front.

 

But, what a shame - it was going to be an all men's ensemble next, which always made Daisy swoon a little. And with a song title like "The Vagabond", how was she not supposed to be disappointed with the set list?

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:10am** _

 

Andy had managed to get a spot next to Thomas, feeling far less sure of himself now that he was in Carlisle Institute and surrounded by their competitors.

 

_"Give to me the life I love,_

_Let the lave go by me."_

 

The tenor internally groaned: Neal & Grigg's guys sounded ten times better than he could hope to, and the choir was just getting started.

 

_"Give the jolly heav'n above_

_And the byway nigh me,"_

 

"They're really good," He quietly bemoaned to his friend, definitely less confident now.

 

"You're better." Thomas softly replied, full sincerity in his voice.

 

The younger singer could only hope his friend was right.

 

_"Bed in the bush with stars to see,_

_Bread I dip in the river,"_

 

Because, honestly, he wasn't completely sure Thomas was right on this one.

 

_"There's the life for a man like me,_

_There's the life, forever."_

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:14am** _

_"Dass sich mein Herz so weit,"_

 

Ivy nervously bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to distract herself with the sounds of the attractive voices only a few meters away. However, whether the gorgeous male voices were there or not, she was still incredibly scared about this being her first time competing like this especially because she'd never done the The Youths of Yorkshire Choral Competition before. Yes, last year she'd done the other competition - the one whose name was escaping her at the moment. But this was different because this wasn't singing in a classroom to a judge, this was singing like on a stage to like an audience - like their concerts.

 

_"Sehnt nach Un end lichkeit,"_

 

But, unlike their concerts, the people in the crowd didn't come specifically to see them. There were a few fans, sure, but everyone was coming to support their own choir.

 

Oh, why did she like singing? She wasn't very good at it and if she messed up, everyone would probably see that and hold it against her for weeks - maybe even  _years_.

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:17am** _

 

"Shall we?"

 

Over the invigorating applause for the previous ensemble, Lavinia somehow overheard the murmur of her choir teacher. Perhaps she caught the sound of conversation because of the adrenaline rush that normally came with this. Maybe the teachers were louder than they realized or she anticipated.

 

Either way, even had she missed Mrs. Hughes's soft inquiry she would not have missed Mr. Carson's responding beam as he gestured past the curtains and onto the stage - sweetly answering her question with hardly a word.

 

Though, once he did so, it was with a jolt that Lavinia realized they would be walking on stage within the next few seconds.

 

Which so did  _not_ help her nerves!

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:19am** _

 

Gwen's eyes followed her teachers towards the risers and the stage awaiting them, excited to be performing what was definitely one of her all-time favorite choir songs today. Within a matter of moments, she gleefully picked up the skirt of her dress and faithfully trailed behind Mrs. Hughes - so terribly pleased that they would finally get a chance to unveil "Bloom" to the crowd.

 

It took them a few moments, and when they were all gathered on stage it looked like Mrs. Hughes was withholding a proud beam - choosing to look every bit the serious choir teacher who wanted them all to be focused. Though, for a second, Gwen could almost swear that she saw a twinkle in the woman's eyes as her teacher's hands rose to conduct.

 

Then, without a moment to lose, she gestured for the sprightly notes of the piano to spring through the air, and off they went.

 

_"Ooh,"_

 

Crescendoing and twirling around the air, as though the  _"Ooh"_ were the breeze itself, Gwen drank in the beautiful second soprano note she was to hold. Their sound grew, flourishing in a refreshing manner before sweeping back into a quieter sound.

 

And, then, they truly began.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:20am** _

 

_"Once April rouses  
Earth from deep silent slumber."_

 

William watched, absolutely transfixed the second Mr. Carson began to play the enchanting accompaniment.

 

It only got better from there.

 

_"And awakens" "And awakens"_

 

Though, if he were to be honest...

 

_"The stirrings_

_Of the unopened_

_Bud."_

 

He was probably more captivated by Daisy's animated face as she merrily sang her part than by any other part of it.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:21am** _

 

_"Beauty,_

_Hidden for a time," "For a time,"_

 

Beryl looked on with misty eyes, immensely proud of her students.

 

_"Duly ushers in the season,"_

 

Truly, they'd all grown since they began - Ivy, Daisy, all the band students who were also singers. Daisy especially had improved so much since entering Downton a little over a year ago.

 

_"Reborn beauty,_

_Subtle and sublime."_

 

Already, the younger woman had become a more lively singer as well as truly given herself to the music. Even as far away as she was, Beryl didn't need to hear the young singer's voice to know just how clearer her tone was - how her confidence had risen over time.

 

_"A renaissance_

_Of new life_

_In,"_

 

She could read all of that growth as clear as day.

 

_"Bloom."_

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:25am** _

 

Cora had been rather touched by the first song the Bel Canto choir had performed, being an avid supporter of all of the Downton choirs - even if her daughters were all in the Concert Choir.

 

However, today she was a fan of each and every choir. As such, her attention was devoted to every song they performed.

 

Fascinatingly enough, now that the delightful "Bloom" had come to an end, the girls on stage looked suspiciously mischievous. Which hardly made sense, considering they were at a choir competition. Moreover, there was hardly a need for mischief at an event like this.

 

But before Cora could give the matter any more thought, the applause was already coming to an end and the next song was beginning.

 

The piano chimed a lovely tune, one that already had a different sort of energy to it than "Bloom" did.

 

_"Pelicanus is the word_

_For a certain breed of bird_

_Who truly is a crane,_

_Egypt is his domain."_

 

The administrator gave a smile at the educational facts dripping from the lyrics, pleased that the girls had learned something even when they were rehearsing.

 

_"There are two kinds thereof_

_Near to the Nile they live."  
_

 

She nodded along, taking in the cute lyrics as the Bel Canto choir retained a sense of academic and vocal refinement.

 

_"One of them dwells in the floods,_

_The fishes are his food."_

 

Their sweeping tones were simply delightful to listen to, the girls practically mimicking the sounds of floods with their notes.

 

_"The other lives in the isles_

_On lizards, crocodiles,"_

 

Cora glanced at her husband, somewhat unsurprised that he didn't seem to be able to follow along with the lyrics - looking appreciative if not a bit confused.

 

_"Serpents and stinking creatures,_

_And beasts of evil nature!"_

 

Her smile dimmed a bit, not necessarily liking the sound of that.

 

_"In Greek his title was,"_

 

But as she strained to hear the words, Cora found herself unable to catch just what they saying next.

 

Little did the administrator know, the song was about to take an even darker route - and would provide her with lyrics she would find herself repeatedly pondering over, whether she liked it or not.

 

_"Of this bird it is known,_

_That when he comes to his young,_

_They being grown and strong,_

_And does them kindly things_

_And covers them with his wings."_

 

Having been able to hear all of that, Cora relaxed into her chair a little - dismissing her earlier hint of disconcertion.

 

_"The little birds begin,_

_Fiercely, to peck at him._

_They tear at him and try to_

_Claw their father's eyes-"_

 

_Okay. That's it._ She was not interested in understanding the rest of the song. She'd just appreciate the high notes and tune the lyrics out.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:31am** _

 

Robert really had no idea what he had just listened to.

 

But, judging from Cora's bewildered expression, it was probably best not to ask.

 

"Just what has Mrs. Hughes been focused on teaching them?" His wife asked, looking as though she were still in shock over the last six minutes.

 

He could only offer a shrug, not quite sure himself even as he enthusiastically applauded the Bel Canto choir and their vocal efforts.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:31am** _

 

_Oh, great._ Alfred thought to himself, watching Mrs. Hughes approach the Bass Choir over the applause - having stepped out of the backstage area to retrieve them for their set.  _We're going to be going up soon._

 

He really should've snuck a look at someone's set-list when he'd had the chance to. However, he'd figured that that would only make him more nervous about everything, which wouldn't help his singing in the slightest.

 

Really, Alfred should've known that not looking at the set list would be just as nerve-wracking as taking a peek at it...

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:33am** _

 

Ethel had snuck out of the crowd of Bel Canto girls the moment she could, having wanted to catch every performance possible.

 

Though, now that she was hearing the sounds of Latin mixed with German, she personally was having a mixed reaction.

 

_"Psallite," "Psallite," "Psallite,"_

_"Unigenito!"_

 

Nothing against Grey's Conservatory, really. Ethel just didn't like the sound of Latin thrown into German - it was a little weird, even though some of the other girls who'd snuck away and joined her didn't seem to think so.

 

And as the choir sped through the Latin at a pace too fast for her to catch, she almost missed the German part.

 

Emphasis on "almost".

 

_"Ein Kleines Kindelein liegt in dem Krippelein!"_

 

Seriously. A bunch of people looked impressed with the whole thing, but she was still wondering who thought it was a good idea.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:35am** _

 

After playing with a combination of German and Latin for a few minutes, it seemed that Grey's Intermediate Ensemble was content to stick with Latin.

 

_"Lux" "Lux"_

 

"That's a bold choice," John Drake overheard his two teachers whisper at  _sotto voce_ backstage, as the pair observed the choir now performing "Lux Aurumque".

 

"Perhaps."

 

_"Calida."_

 

Simple, yet astonishingly awesome to listen to.

 

_"Calida."_

 

He was sure that if the song was taken and just judged based off the words themselves, "Lux Aurumque" would be overlooked and dismissed at a glance.

 

However, as John was soon discovering, simplicity was not something to be overlooked.

 

Which, in all honesty, was more of his style.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:40am** _

 

As the final chords of the breathtaking Latin song came to an end, Thomas eagerly clapped for the arrival of Downton's Bass Choir. Though Grey's Conservatory was doing fairly well so far and he himself was eager to compete, the baritone had only one choir he was interested in hearing today.

 

And, soon enough, Mrs. Hughes was swapping places with Mr. Carson - taking her spot at the piano for these two songs as he readied himself to conduct the choir. Truly, Thomas had witnessed such adaptability only a few times within the settings of a choir - and it was a flexibility he rather admired.

 

Still, any thought of those two teachers was eagerly brushed aside as the piano accompaniment for "Silent Noon" began to play.

 

_"Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,"_

 

For a moment, he could close his eyes and listen to the reassuring sound. He could imagine a different life, one where his hands could do just as described within the lyrics.

 

_"The finger-points look through like rosy blooms."_

 

Thomas was really glad for Andy's friendship. For the fact that he'd snatched bits and pieces of this song throughout their study sessions, that they'd even got those study sessions in the first place.

 

_"Your eyes smile peace."_

 

He knew there wouldn't be more than friendship between them. And though it did hurt to know that, it was okay. It didn't make either of them bad people, it just made the situation what it was.

 

_"The pasture gleams and glooms_

_'Neath billowing clouds that scatter and amass."_

 

And, just because it was what it was didn't mean that for a second or two he couldn't imagine something a little different.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:46am** _

 

Only once the applause for "Silent Noon" truly began to die down did Henry Lang observe Mr. Carson gesture to Mrs. Hughes to build the next song's starting chord. Seeing as how it was an  _a cappella_ piece, but taking note of the fact that it was Mr. Carson conducting - who was not a big fan of pitch pipes - this was probably the best compromise for giving everyone their starting pitch.

 

In any case, he was all too ready to dive into "I Have Had Singing".

 

_"Singing,"_

 

This was his personal favorite.

 

_"Singing,"_

 

The one he could fall into the blissful harmonies of and let the  _crescendo_ s take him away.

 

_"Oh, the singing!"_

 

Such a simple tune. One that soothed away all of Mrs. Butte's stupid comments about his ability to sing, one that wiped away all the jests from peers about him being interested in singing.

 

_"There was so much singing then!"_

 

This was the song that told him singing was always going to be a part of his life - in any way it could.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:51am** _

 

As Strallan's Combined Choir took to the stage, Edith found herself drifting a little in focus. Since the appearance of that choir implied that Downton would be taking the stage in less than four songs, she really ought to be scurrying out of the auditorium to the backstage area - like so many of her classmates already had.

 

However, blending into the wall and softly treading on the carpet, she found herself taking her time. That was even more so the case when she realized the first song would begin with a soloist - she always liked listening to the soloist and hearing the story their voice held.

 

_"Fair you well, my dear,_

_I must be gone_

_And leave you for a while."_

 

With the baritone soloist's mournful sound, complemented by the sorrowful humming of the choir, Edith realized she was unwilling to leave just yet. She simply had to hear the rest of the piece - or, at least, the rest of the beginning solo.

 

_"If I roam away_

_I'll come back again._

_Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,_

_Though I roam ten thousand miles."_

 

"Edith," Sybil quietly whispered, trying to get her sister's attention. Of course, her attempt was in vain: her sister was quite enamored with the song.

 

_"So fair thou art," "So deep in love,"_

_"So deep,"_

 

With the choir's voices echoing, melding into one another, the message of love forlorn swept over the air - letting a haunting, melancholic tone descend upon the audience.

 

_"That I never will prove false_

_To the bonnie lass I love."_

 

"Edith," Sybil had reached out, lightly grabbing her sister's arm and finally pulling her attention. "We're going to be late."

 

_"So deep in love"_ _"'Til the stars fall from the skies."_

_"'Til the stars fall from the skies."_

 

But even as the middle Crawley sister was being guided towards the backstage area, she still found herself captivated.

 

Understandably so.

 

_"The sea will never run dry, my dear._

_Nor the rocks melt with the sun."_

 

The altos and the men's sections of the choir dutifully carried their voices through the tumultuous, stunning sound. The sopranos swam over the rocks and sailed far above the sea, accentuating the tantalizing vocal beauty - guiding the waves of sound that crashed so tenderly against the back wall of the auditorium, flooding the space with the haunting music.

 

_"But I never will prove false,_

_Till all be done, my dear._

_Till all these things be done."_

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 9:54am** _

 

Jimmy loved competing. He absolutely adored the fact that he got to show his prowess as a tenor on a yearly basis, that - without fail - he always walked away from these events with at least a few numbers. It's what happened last year when he first joined choir, it'd be sure to happen again.

 

However, even though competitions were pretty fun and he normally got a kick out of them, there was one thing that always made them a drag:

 

The boring-as-all-get-out choir songs.

 

Like the one being performed right now.

 

_"How lovely is thy dwelling place,_

_Oh, Lord of hosts."_

 

"See, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_"Oh, Lord of hosts."_

 

They were all standing safely out of sight, tucked away in a section of the backstage area that allowed for the smallest of whispers and the tiniest of noises.

 

Which, surprisingly enough, Mr. Carson was doing for once - instead of remaining faithfully silent as a "sign of respect" to the choir.

 

_"Thy dwelling place_

_Oh, Lord of hosts."_

 

Jimmy leaned in, trying to hear just what it was his choir director was talking about this time because it had be more entertaining than what was being performing. But eavesdropping was difficult over the monotonous singing coming from the stage.

 

_"How lovely is thy dwelling place,_

_Oh, Lord of hosts."_

 

"Now do you understand why I was so adamant that we should perform this piece?"

 

_"How lovely," "How lovely,"_

_"Is thy dwelling place,_

_Oh, Lord of hosts."_

 

The tenor stared at Mr. Carson, now remembering that they were supposed to perform this song last fall and it never happened, thank God.

 

"I see, Mr. Carson." But, she didn't sound all that impressed, much to the relief of Jimmy.

 

_"For my soul,"_

 

The good news was, if Mrs. Hughes wasn't impressed, it was really unlikely that Mr. Carson would be performing this song anytime soon.

 

_"It longeth, yea, fainteth,"_

 

His curiosity now diminished, Jimmy continued to listen in a weary manner - having remembered this part of the song now that he was hearing it again.

 

_"It longeth, yea, fainteth,"_

 

He was so bored out of his mind that he'd done anything to distract himself, not understanding why on Earth someone thought this was interesting enough to compose.

 

_"It longeth, yea, fainteth,"_

 

Unbeknownst to Jimmy, had he continued watching his two choir teachers, he would have found a sufficient distraction. For, though the song was about religion and finding one's way into the "courts of the Lord", at least one of his teachers was not thinking about that type of longing in this moment. Moreover, that particular teachers was thinking about a different type of longing altogether.

 

And, had Jimmy still been looking in their direction, even he would've been able to see that type of longing in that person's eyes.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:02am** _

 

Rose was rather nervous about the competition, yes, it was true. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before, butterflies were running rampant her stomach, and she'd been distracted to the point of forgetting to check her social media.

And, yet, as she heard the sound of Grey's Conservatory's Advanced Ensemble - especially the sounds of the basses, baritones, and tenors - she couldn't help but sink into a blissful oblivion. The sopranos had been nice to hear, but the voices of the young men were just divine.

 

_"Se caresse en soi-même,_

 

_Par son propre reflet éclairé."_

 

What they were singing about, did not matter, not really. That their gorgeous voices could still be heard from where she was was the only important part.

 

_"Ainsi tu inventes le thème_

_Du Narcisse exaucé."_

 

Though, maybe it did matter what they were singing about. Could help to amp up the attractiveness of it all.

 

"What are they singing about?" She couldn't help but ask Mary, the only person near enough to discreetly inquire.

 

"Narcissism." Came the arch response.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:07am** _

 

_"The silver swan, who, living, had no note,"_

 

Gladys Denker had liked Grey's Conservatory repertoire overall. The foreign languages in general had been pretty interesting to listen to, and it almost sounded as though they were all singing from a professional choir.

 

_"When Death approach't unlock't"_

 

This, however. This rendition, which apparently would be repeating from Neal & Grigg in a little while, was something she could fall asleep to.

 

So "eh" was this version, that she had promptly lost track of the proceedings, daydreamed through the rest of the two minute song, and only remembered to clap because Septimus was doing so right next to her.

 

"Is the Concert Choir next?" She asked, not having been able to snatch a copy of the set list throughout the chaos of the day.

 

She only got shushed in response, her somewhat of a friend more interested in watching the show than talking to her.

 

_Well, then._ She didn't have to ask so politely next time.

 

"I bet CJ would know if the Concert Choir's next."

 

He froze, having been the only person in the vicinity to have heard her. And, seeing as how no one was supposed to know just who CJ was, he could only sit quietly and let the remark fade into the silence.

 

That, and properly respond at some point.

 

"I'm sure she would." Came the eventual remark, a comment drenched in hesitancy.

 

She merely gave a knowing look in response.

 

"Yeah, I'm sure  _he_ would."

 

Gladys returned to looking at the stage, as some of her favorite singers were now gracefully stepping on.

 

"Oh, it  _is_ the Concert Choir!"

 

However, her companion was still stunned into silence.

 

Which, in retrospect, entertained her more than the choir now on stage.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:11am** _

 

_Voice of the people,_ Sybil excitedly thought to herself - translating the title of their first song effortlessly. She herself found this to be her favorite of any of the songs she'd sung in this choir, let alone this school.

 

And she was so thrilled that it was going to be Mrs. Hughes conducting them for this one - as per Mr. Carson's insistence. The youngest of the Crawley sisters had heard his firm request over the applause for Grey's Intermediate Ensemble, the choir director stating that it was only fitting for her to conduct since it was her who had chosen this song.

 

Yes, well, now they were  _finally_ on stage and Mrs. Hughes looked just as excited to conduct and direct them as Sybil felt. Both of their eyes glowed with a fierce appreciation for the song they were about to perform, their demeanors radiating a certain pleasure that only came with exhilarating performances.

 

So, with a hushed anticipation, the older woman gestured to Mr. Carson to sound the first chord of notes - building the notes slowly so that each singer knew just what they were doing. And then, only once those three notes were dutifully played from the piano, did an invigorating energy bring the woman's hands to the air in front of her.

 

She was now fully prepared to take charge of the choir.

 

_"Vox Populi!"_

 

Leaping past  _forte,_ they swiftly struck the first lyrics at  _fortissimo_ \- with every student on stage prepared to thoroughly astonish the crowd.

 

_"Vox Dei" "Dei"_

 

Harmony eagerly burst into the audience, and Sybil was almost certain that Granny had jolted in her seat from the sound of the first chord - not at all ready for the level of sound or excitement coming from the stage.

 

_"Vox Populi,"_

 

And what was the best part, in Sybil's most humble opinion?

 

_"Vox Dei!"_

 

Well, the best part simply had to be that the Concert Choir was just getting started.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:14am** _

 

The roaring applause that came with "Vox Populi" had to have been one of the most rousing forms of approval Matthew had had in a long time. He was even sure he could hear his mother proudly shouting "Bravo!" over the clapping, and she wasn't alone.

 

Truth be told, this had been the first moment of the day he'd really remembered why he loved to sing. Being back at Carlisle Institute, having to walk these halls once again, had dampened his spirit a considerable amount. It was not noticeable to anyone else, fortunately. But, really, it wasn't all that fun to be walking through an institution that still felt more like a ruthless competition than a school.

 

Luckily, being on this stage with all of his friends did make a difference. It took away some of the frustration and pain that came with returning here.

 

And now that he was once again able to start appreciating the joys that came with performing, it was time for his personal favorite of the two.

 

Yes, "Vox Populi" was absolutely brilliant and definitely was the perfect song to start off their competition set.

 

Nevertheless, he did hold a soft spot for "Set Me As A Seal" - something that Mrs. Hughes seemed to share, judging by the fact that she was indicating to Mr. Carson they should switch spots while the crowd continued to clap. It looked like the woman felt this wasn't her place to be, if her frown was anything to go by. But, why she'd only accept the role of conducting for "Vox" and not "Seal" - as was the songs' nicknames within the choirs - made no sense.

 

_Unless..._

 

It could possibly be, Matthew began to contemplate, that Mrs. Hughes had chosen "Vox Populi" to compete with - something that would not shock the tenor if it were indeed the case. Furthermore, it was just as likely that Mr. Carson had chosen "Set Me As A Seal" as the complementary piece - which was also something that would be rather unsurprising.

 

But if that were the case, that meant that she probably thought she was taking the credit by conducting a song she didn't originally suggest. Which was something that didn't really make sense to Matthew - after all, it's not as though she was stealing the credit for writing or arranging the music - but something that did seem to fit his teacher's character.

 

Silence began to take the crowd once more as the two teachers engaged in a silent debate - conversing solely through their gazes and gestures. Who would win this little battle, no one was for sure-

 

Actually, that wasn't quite the case.

 

Judging from the fact that Mr. Carson was now playing the notes for the first chord, instead of swapping places with his colleague, it looked like he had won this time. Something that Mrs. Hughes did not look pleased about, even as professionalism and decorum easily wiped away any trace of frustration.

 

Truly, it was as though no argument had occurred in the first place, if only because she was now cueing them to-

 

_Oh, wait. **I**  am supposed to sing right now._

 

_... Right._

 

However, it didn't look as though Mrs. Hughes was either aware or interested in waiting for Matthew to remember his role in the choir. Rather, she looked ready to solemnly lead them into the next piece.

 

_"Set me as a seal_

_Upon your heart,"_

 

Within seconds, he tossed any distracting thoughts aside and allowed himself to be transported to another world - a world where life was effortless, authentic, and beautifully simple.

 

_"As a seal_

_Upon your arm."_

 

The tenor closed his eyes, unable to help himself as he heard the chilling cascades his classmates sent soaring into the room.

 

_"For love is strong as death."_

 

Dipping and bending with the notes, Matthew couldn't help but follow the sway Mrs. Hughes's hands held, able to lose himself in the song even as he heeded her direction.

 

_"For love is strong as death," "Set me as a seal,_

_Upon your heart."_

 

Love of all kinds - romantic, platonic, etc. - flowed within such a piece, bringing with it a sense of melancholic serenity and thoughtful joy.

 

_"As a seal upon your,_

_Seal upon your arm._

_For love is strong as death."_

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:18am** _

 

"How can we go on after  _that_?" Sarah smirked to herself as she caught the whispers following their performance.

 

_Serves them right, seeing as how they are going to repeat Grey's act._

 

She could have had sympathy for Neal & Grigg's, sure. The alto could, after all, recall a similar time or two.

 

Nevertheless, as she observed the conductor of Neal & Grigg - a woman who looked very frustrated with the situation - and the students from the school, she couldn't help the sense of glee that overtook her.

 

This was, of course, when she accidentally tripped into the curtain hidden in the darkness and knocked into Mrs. Hughes in the process.

 

"Miss O'Brien!" Her choir director hissed in a scandalized fashion, his vexation obvious even if she ignored the fact that he didn't address her as "Sarah". "Pay attention to your surroundings!"

 

"It's quite alright, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes tried to reassure him, though the man was already helping her regain her balance and glaring at Sarah with a fair amount of irritation. "It's not as though the building exploded."

 

This offhand comment prompted even more snickers from the witnesses in the backstage crowd, much to the alto's immense displeasure.

 

Next time, she'd purposefully trip someone and see how they'd like that.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:21am** _

 

Joseph really felt bad for Neal & Grigg, having cringed at the sight of the repeat in the program.

 

_"More geese than swans now live,_

_More fools than wise."_

 

If he were ever a choir conductor, he'd make sure to never pick a song that would possibly be sung by another choir at a competition.

 

Little did Joseph Moseley know, this was a fate that was sometimes unavoidable in life.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:24am** _

 

If John Bates had been expecting to fall asleep after the second rendition of "The Silver Swan", well, he'd be quite mistaken. Even if it hadn't been for the fact that Anna Smith was quite determined to have her friend suffer- spend some quality time with her listening to the choirs, there was still one other factor to consider.

 

_"Die Himmel erzählem die Ehres Gottes!"_

 

The German song was the ensemble's choice for an up-tempo piece.

 

Which meant, in this particular case, they were going to be incredibly loud and proud for 90% of the piece.

 

And if John even thought of forgetting this fact, this ensemble would be there to remind him.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:30am** _

 

As the audience approvingly clapped for the end of the final German piece of the competition, Violet Crawley shook herself awake once more.

 

"Are the schools finished shouting at us?" She asked Isobel, who had had the privilege of being seated next to her. The woman could only softly sigh, looking longingly at the exit before perusing her program once more.

 

"No, I do believe there is one more song that will possibly involve shouting." Violet did a double-take at this, as though she was affronted that the final competitors of the morning would dare to follow the traditions by having an up-tempo and a slower tempo piece.

 

"Wasn't that just exhilarating?" Cora asked them both, having been seated a few chairs away from the women.

 

"That is one way of putting it, yes." Violet dryly remarked, readying herself for another round of loud music. "This is the final chorale, yes?"

 

"That's right," Isobel confirmed, "And I think it's terrific that Midsomer will be starting  _and_ finishing the show!"

 

"Yes, well, you would, wouldn't you?"

 

However, as prim and put together as Violet Crawley responses were, nothing could have prepared her for the literal buzzing that sprang upon the stage as the choir began to emulate... bees.

 

And, yes, choreography was included.

 

"It's the 'Flight of the Bumblebee'," Isobel cheerfully whispered in response in the woman's unspoken question - taking unadulterated pleasure in her stunned state of being.

 

For once, the woman was too shocked to even speak.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 10:39am** _

_"And ever shall be,_

_World without end,_

_Amen."_

 

For a choir buzzing about the stage only six minutes ago, the Midsomer's Concert Choir was versatile in its ability to convey a serious and respectful manner.

 

_"A world without end,_

_Amen."_

 

With a beautiful resolution befitting the final song of today's competition, the singers on the stage's risers held out the last chord of the piece with a superior sense of poise and musicality.

 

If only she herself felt nearly as put-together.

 

Managing not to look nearly as irritated as she felt, Emma Butte waited for the applause to die down and for the singers to depart before taking to the stage. It had been decided that, seeing as how she had been the one to originally suggest the sight-singing, she would get the honor of officially informing both the audience and the crowd that there would be no required sight-singing portion today. That they could all pack up early and leave if they so wished.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The woman began, somehow able to keep the frustration out of both her manner and tone. "That concludes the 22nd Youths of Yorkshire Choral Competition. And what a show it was, too!"

 

Another round of applause stirred up at this, giving her a few more seconds of stalling.

 

It wasn't as though she couldn't tell the crowd that this was it for the show. She also didn't mind revealing the fact that, much to the disappointment of the performers, none of the scores would be released until a little over a week from now - which was a tad later than normal.

 

Yes, none of that truly bothered her.

 

Rather, it was the fact that she  _knew_ that Ms. Hughes and Mr. Carson would be bursting with smugness the moment she began to say any of it - the delay, the lack of required sight-singing, everything. They'd pretend to be cordial and professional, but her gut feeling informed her they'd be delighted to watch her subtly admit to failure.

 

_That_ is what made her incensed.

 

And, with Francesca and Phoebe both carefully watching her from the backstage area, she couldn't show any of her upset. Instead, she had to pretend everything was perfectly alright.

 

Which it most certainly wasn't.

 

_**Saturday, the 23rd of March, 2019, 12:03pm** _

 

"So, Mrs. Hughes," Phyllis Baxter really hadn't meant to eavesdrop on her teachers' conversations, honestly. It just sort of happened that way. "What did you think of your first competition with Downton?"

 

Though, truthfully, Phyllis did purposefully stay a little behind the pair instead of walking another route out of the building. So, perhaps, it was now slipping out of "accidental overhearing" and into "purposeful eavesdropping".

 

"Well," The older woman began to remark, looking at her companion with a smile Phyllis hadn't seen before. "That was certainly a competition."

 

The choir director nodded in agreement, though he didn't seem entirely sure of where to take the conversation now.

 

"That it was."

 

"It'll be a different set-up next week - definitely not as intense."

 

"And it won't be at Carlisle Institute," She darkly muttered, telling Phyllis that something else had happened today - something that the choirs would probably never know about.

 

"That it certainly won't."

 

They carried on in silence for a moment or two, each lost in their own thoughts. Though, it looked like Mr. Carson did not want this to be the end of their conversation.

 

"I take it," He eventually ventured, "You're still invested in taking the students to the States?"

 

Mrs. Hughes stumbled a bit, seeming a little shocked that he was even bothering to ask. Though, at the sound of traveling abroad, Phyllis did step up her pace to make sure she didn't miss a thing.

 

"Mr. Carson," The choir teacher softly murmured, slowing them down a bit.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Even though she was only an observer to the conversation and not a participant, the alto would almost swear that time came to a still as the two teachers looked at one another.

 

"So, you two thought you could escape the crowd, did you?"

 

Beryl Patmore's voice had an exquisite knack for being louder and more attention-grabbing than any other voice in the room. Consequently, even though Phyllis saw Mrs. Hughes's lips move in a further response, the younger singer was not privy to whatever it was spoken.

 

"I wouldn't put it in exactly those terms," Mr. Carson defensively began, coming off as unusually flustered in the process and reminding Phyllis that her teachers were indeed human. And, therefore, it was probably for the best that she didn't catch whatever little moment had just been shared.

 

"But aren't those terms essentially the facts?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:
> 
> Ladies and gentlemen, until writing this chapter, I had forgotten how intense competing can be!
> 
> Now, since we're not only past 100K words, but we are also nearing the 100th review mark (something I still can't quite believe, to be honest), I've been meaning to ask: is there anything in particular you would like to see? I'm definitely interested in weaving in requests - whether that's more singing techniques, more Chelsie, more of any one character, pairing or concept, etc. - into the story. Just let me know your thoughts and I'll see what we can do :)


	23. Surprising Conditions and Conditional Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19: Please do make sure to check out chapter 19 -- that's where all the updates started from today!
> 
> Original A/N: While this isn't as long as I was hoping for, I do hope it makes up for the lack of update this previous week. I will definitely get to responding to everyone's reviews the moment I can and thank everyone for your patience.

**Sunday, the 24th of March, 2019**

 

For the last several weeks, Rose had been pleased to say that the fundraising social media efforts had been rather successful. Due to her own popularity on Instagram as well as Jimmy's - and CJ's witty posts on their Facebook page - they were getting attention. The Youtube videos, featuring mostly rehearsals and rehearsal tips, were slowly succeeding as well. Recording yesterday's competition and the Best of Downton would probably help bring in even more interest, but it was already a pretty nice success.

 

With that all in mind, it was with an excited air that she rolled over in bed and snatched her up to check their latest stats. Since last night - when she officially posted that video of Mrs. Hughes from the Best of Downton, along with the other performances from the choirs - something had to have gotten attention from the Internet.

 

Suffice to say, nothing could have prepared Rose for what was waiting for her on her phone.

 

**Monday, the 25th of March, 2019**

 

Nothing - no amount of fair warning, no excess supply of coffee, no sort of planning or contigency - could have readied Charles Carson for the exuberant energy that came opening the door of 402 first thing in the morning.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" Rose excitedly called out into the room, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in her happiness. "Mrs. Hughes, are you here yet?"

 

He couldn't help but scowl at the enthusiasm, a little irritated that the soprano was interrupting the first moment of peace he'd had in days. Truly, with the concert and the competition back-to-back, Sunday had been more of a preparation day for this week instead of a respite.

 

"Rose," The choir director frustratedly intoned, "Mrs. Hughes has not arrived yet."

 

"Oh, I see," Instantly wanting to backtrack - something he could see written all over her face - the young woman held a look of apprehension. Clearly, she knew that she had not arrived at the best of times.

 

Nevertheless, even though Charles was a strange mixture of flummoxed and irritated, he was also a professional. Moreover, even though he wanted to simply dive into the necessary tasks of the day, he knew this was probably important.

 

Or, at least, he could only hope that Rose's interruption was important.

 

"Is there something I can do?"

 

"Well, actually," He could see the internal debate written within her face as though it were a key change. There seemed to be some sort of conflict about giving him new information or waiting for the teacher she wanted to talk to about everything. "Maybe you should be the one to tell her."

 

That didn't sound reassuring.

 

"And whom am I to speak to?"

 

"Well, you see, Mr. Carson," The soprano didn't outright answer his question, looking as though she wanted to beat around the bush for the next ten minutes. "The truth is, Mrs. Hughes is famous."

 

And  _that_ was hardly what he had been expecting.

 

"'Mrs. Hughes is famous'?" Rose hummed a form of assent, before looking as though she was about to confuse the choir director further by throwing a variety of information at him.

 

"Not famous like Benedict Cumberbatch, of course,"

 

"Who?"

 

"But, famous enough to get over  _10,000_ views in less than a day!  _And_ 40 comments!" Rose chose to ignore her teacher's endearingly obvious ignorance, wanting to focus on the important part of the conversation. "We never get more than 3,000 views on our videos, let alone 10,000! And, as for comments!"

 

"'10,000 views'? Of what exactly?"

 

Charles was now questioning how wise it was to let Elsie work with the students on their social media efforts. Just what this video was, he was almost afraid to find out. He could only hope it related to music and the choirs, and nothing terribly risqué. Of course, she wouldn't dare to do such a thing - but the Internet did produce strange videos and who knows what Rose had convinced her to record in an effort to raise money.

 

"Honestly, Mr. Carson," Rose was getting a little exasperated now - that much was evident. "I suppose I should just show you."

 

And with that, she whipped out her phone and - with a determined speed the choir director couldn't possibly hope to replicate - began to furiously type up a storm on her mobile device.

 

He could only hope whatever the end result was of her search, it was not something that would bring scandal upon the choirs or Mrs. Hughes.

 

__.__

 

As with so many other individuals of the last few days, Elsie Hughes had no idea what she'd be walking into come Monday morning. Having been tied up with a few curiosities on her computer - such as an unexpected change in fundraising - as well as taking her time to enjoy the beautiful weather, she'd been a little later than normal.

 

Consequently, when she walked into the second fourth floor, it was with an unassuming air that she entered 402 to start the day.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, is that you?" Mr. Carson inquired, wrapped up in something on his computer.

 

"Who else would it be?"

 

He gave a hint of a shrug, hands fidgeting to adjust his attire - only giving her further reason to pause.

 

"Did something happen, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Not exactly," She opened her mouth to retort, but he was already continuing. "However, I do have a question for you,"

 

"What would you like to know?" A little more brittle than normal, she couldn't help but feel as though there was information being withheld. As a result, she wasn't in the mood to speak as politely as normal.

 

"How has the fundraising been going?"

 

It was asked in a manner that tried to remain nonchalant and failed abysmally, further raising her suspicion. Charles definitely knows something she didn't and, for his sake, he better start sharing this new information soon.

 

However, for now, she'd humour the daft man.

 

"Well, excluding all the donations we received from the reception after the Best of Downton, there was a recent spike in donations from the Go Fund Me page."

 

Which was odd, all things considered. Though, perhaps Rose's recordings from their competition had led to further interest from others. It didn't really explain why the donations suddenly jumped practically overnight. But, it was a reasonable explanation as to why there was a sudden increase.

 

"Really?"

 

Now, the choir director just sounded as though he's trying too hard to remain innocently oblivious.

 

And, really, after the intense weekend she'd just experienced, Elsie wasn't really in the mood to continue to avoid whatever he knew.

 

"Charles," His sudden silence had informed her more than anything else that he knew something she didn't. "What are you not telling me?"

 

"Well," He began to speak once more, still confused by what Rose had implied - as well as the fact that Elsie had severely understated her career if she'd received 10,000 views in under 24 hours. For even he, someone who never cared for newfangled technology let alone the Internet, understood that this was no easy feat.

 

"Is there something wrong involving the students?"

 

"Not quite."

 

"Alright," She relaxed a little, though concern was still written into her demeanor. "Is it something involving the staff?"

 

"In a sense," The choir director really couldn't help the cryptic responses, still thrown off by his new knowledge.

 

"Mr. Carson, I cannot help with anything until I'm given more information. Just what is wrong?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I don't think you realize how popular you are."

 

This was not what she was expecting. She had no real expectation of what would cause Charles to look so bewildered, but if she had to have guessed it would not have been about her popularity.

 

"What on Earth do you mean?"

 

He started to explain, to try to restate what Rose's well-meaning babbling essentially into.

 

When a minute had passed and a proper explanation is still nowhere in sight, the choir director settles for a more explicit explanation. He chose to, instead of awkwardly fumble through words, pull up Youtube - ushering her over to his desk.

 

She followed with a sense of trepidation, watching him begin to search for some video. And as he typed "I Shall Not Live In", something that caused her to continue watching silently, they discovered a surprising popular search term:

 

"I Shall Not Live In Vain Elsie Hughes"

 

It's the sixth search term to pop up in the list, hinting that - even though this was his first time officially looking the video up - her video was at least popular enough to warrant popping up as a search term.

 

However, it was only until she saw the video - now listed with 14,513 views and 62 comments - that Elsie began to understand why he was struggling to explain it. Seeing as how it'd been only about a day since the video was posted, there should be no reason for that level of popularity.

 

"I see."

 

"Do you?"

 

_._

 

"Rose, are you alright?"

 

The truth was, Sybil suspected that her cousin was perfectly fine - judging from the fact that she seemed to bouncing off the walls even as they spoke.

 

"Did you know how famous Mrs. Hughes is?" The younger woman eagerly inquired.

 

"No, not exactly." But, something told Sybil that was the wrong answer to give.

 

"Well, why don't I show you," Rose began to cheerfully take out her phone for quite possibly the seventh time that hour - so very pleased with the situation.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Eventually, they had to distract themselves from the fundraising and videos. "I do believe we've been forgetting something."

 

Though, perhaps the distraction was unnecessary.

 

"Whatever's the matter, Mr. Carson?"

 

He gestured to a stack of music sheets that had been waiting to be perused.

 

"Oh," She remarked, when realization finally came to her. For the stack of music was the second finale piece for the concert - a song they had not even begun to work on in the midst of all the chaos.

 

And, furthermore, there were two aspects to it that made it currently unappealing to work with:

 

Firstly, it was the song that Mrs. Butte suggested. Needless to say, their association with the woman was not so detached that they could maintain full professionalism around any hint of her.

 

Secondly… that particular song held a soprano solo.

 

In short, it would undoubtedly be a repeat of "Breath of Heaven".

 

Which was not necessarily something the choir teachers of Downton Academy needed to experience at such a stressful time.

 

_._

 

"Mary! Edith! Matthew! Did you know-"

 

"Rose, perhaps it's best if we hold off from telling them all about Mrs. Hughes's popularity until class."

 

_._

 

Additional stress or not, Elsie Hughes just had an idea that seemed all too fitting for the finale piece.

 

"Do you not think we should open the floor up to more than just sopranos, Mr. Carson?" He gave her a look of disbelief, even as he continued to hear her out. "This song strikes me as one that shouldn't be exclusive in nature, and the solo can easily be adapted to suit a different voice."

 

Quietly, Charles gave the thought serious consideration. And, though it was highly unorthodox, there was a sort of symbolism with the idea that to keep the solo restricted to only sopranos was to restrict the truth of the song: the truth being that everyone is essentially music, that they hold song within their soul.

 

"I do see your logic behind that suggestion, yes."

 

"Do you now?" She couldn't help but tease. "But does that mean you agree with it?"

 

"I do agree with the symbolism, Mrs. Hughes," Now it was his turn to archly speak, recognizing the playful tone. "I just can't help but wonder the toll it'll take to listen to all the auditioners."

 

He wasn't referring to the quality of voices they'd be hearing - nothing quite so cruel was pushing his concerns. Rather, his worry lay with remembering the energy that it had taken to listen to only the sopranos of the Concert Choir. And the fact that, with such extensive tasks before them as getting to the final stretch of fundraising - as well as the solo/ensemble competition and their concert - it would possibly take more energy to listen to everyone than they had to spare.

 

"I'm sure Mrs. Patmore would be more than happy to provide us with sandwiches and moral support for any auditions," She spoke with a hint of a smile, trying to remind him of a particular moment where those sandwiches were a mite risqué.

 

Charles couldn't help but give a snort at this, recalling Elsie's stubbornness about eating and the necessary arguments they'd had throughout it all. Though, now that she mentioned it, there was a specific memory coming to mind - one that wasn't all that unpleasant to recall - involving sandwiches.

 

"Right." Her smile widened at the start of his concession, but he wasn't finished. "Mrs. Hughes, I will accept your proposal on two conditions."

 

She deflated a little, not necessarily liking the sound of that.

 

Now, it was his turn to let a smile peek through seemingly serious demeanour.

 

"And what are your conditions, Mr. Carson?"

 

Charles was a little pleased with himself for not immediately giving in to her request, even more so with the fact that he'd been able to come up with conditions in spite of the tantalizing memory coming to mind.

 

Truly, Elsie didn't realize the power of bringing up that one distinct memory involving sandwiches.

 

"My first condition is that we do not start auditions until after the soloist competition." She nodded, able to agree to that. "My second condition is that you agree to consistently eat and rest throughout the audition process - instead of pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion."

 

"Mr. Carson," The choir teacher began to protest, but her director was adamant about this.

 

"Those are my two conditions, Mrs. Hughes."

 

Elsie practically scowled at this, recognizing that he wasn't going to be moved on the matter even though she felt as though it wasn't necessary.

 

"And if I added in my own condition?"

 

"That is something I'm sure will be perfectly reasonable, Mrs. Hughes."

 

Now, he was just all innocent expressions and that daft, facetious demeanour.

 

"Well, then," She gave him another minute, quickly racking her brain for some sort of condition. When half a minute's search provided nothing really worthy of remark, just going to show that this semester was taking an unexpected toll, "I think it's only fair that you agree to the same conditions as well."

 

"As I said before, Mrs. Hughes: that is perfectly reasonable."

 

She resisted scoffing or rolling her eyes, knowing that he had no qualms about the matter.

 

"Yes, well, that's that, I supposed."

 

"So, we're agreed then?"

 

"Oh, we're hardly that, Mr. Carson," The choir teacher sharply replied, letting more irritation than cheekiness color her tone. "But I suppose I can accept your conditions."

 

He nodded briefly, pleased that she acquiesced - even if she wasn't happy about the matter. Better still that she had him agree to everything as well. With that in mind, now there wouldn't be a moment where she could declare he was acting like pot calling the kettle black and ignore his conditions.

 

"Right." Charles really did look far too pleased about the matter in Elsie's opinion."I do believe we'll be having some of the soloists perform for their classmates today?"

 

_._

 

"Edith,"

 

This wasn't how the middle Crawley sister wanted to start rehearsal.

 

"Would you be so kind as to perform your solo first?"

 

The second soprano gave a faint smile, not feeling particularly interested in doing as her teacher was asking.

 

But, if she didn't go now, she'd never hear the end of it from Mary.

 

_._

 

" _Now she sleeps in the valley_

_Where the wild flowers nod."_

 

John could tell Edith needed more breath support than she was giving herself, that her normal tone was shaken by the crowd in front of her, but that was nerves for you.

 

" _And no one know she loved him_

_But herself,"_

 

Still, if breath support was where she was lacking, beautiful low notes befitting of a  _mezzo-soprano_ was where the middle Crawley sister thrived.

 

" _And God."_

 

After the final chords from the piano played, all the while Edith held out the last note for a solid seven seconds, John realized that many of his classmates were taken with the solo. That they thought it was haunting and pretty, that they rather liked her version of it.

 

If only the soloist herself looked as though she agreed.

 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Mrs. Hughes lightly asked her, coaxing the second soprano's eyes away from the floor.

 

"No, it wasn't." Came the mumble, incurring an eye-roll of disbelief from the eldest Crawley sister.

 

Fortunately, it looked like Matthew was sending her a look to be a little kinder to her sister.

 

Better still, it looked like Mary was actually listening.

 

_._

 

For Thomas Barrow, he was normally one to preen and thoroughly enjoy the spotlight of singing a solo.

 

Today, that was not really the case.

 

" _I attempt from love's sickness_

_To fly,"_

 

Rolling through the notes with an effortless manner, his eyes caught O'Brien's snickering all the way from her seat - having caught all of the words and finding them hilarious.

 

" _In vain."_

 

Snickering turned into a mixture of sniggering and whickering, garnering a few smirks and sneers from other classmates who were not fans of Thomas.

 

" _Since I am myself_

_My own fever and pain,"_

 

Honestly, what he wouldn't do to have the chance to trip her just like she did at the last competition.

 

At least Mrs. Hughes looked like she'd be having words with the alto after the song was over.

 

_._

 

Anna Smith was normally incredibly supportive of all of her friends and classmates.

 

" _The trumpet shall sound!_

_And the dead shall be raised!"_

 

However, at the sounds of Jimmy pushing his voice to be as loud and dramatic as possible, she was beginning to realize that a line had to be drawn when it came to her support.

 

" _And the dead shall be raised_

_Incorruptible!"_

 

It wasn't so much that he was a bad singer. Jimmy was quite good, probably one of best soloists in the class.

 

He was just also modernizing the sound of Händel and acting as though he were the only soloist in the room. That, in itself, made her patience start to slip out of her grasp. That had her smile a little thinner than normal, even as she tried to appreciate the music before her. And that had her wishing that they were done listening to the soloists of the day, glancing at John and wishing they could tease the matter already.

 

__.__

 

"Excellent job, everyone!"

 

It had been another successful rehearsal for the  _a cappella_ rehearsal. "Don't Stop Believin'" - with all its various solos - was coming together, and so was "In My Life" as well as "Africa". It was all becoming solidified, which made her job of preparing the other choirs for their various concerts even easier.

 

And, so, it was with hint of relief that Elsie began to dismiss the group. She was content with their progress for the time being. Furthermore, what with everything that the other choirs still had to get through, it was nice to finally have a break.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," There was something oddly familiar about the way Tom Branson had just addressed her. Something that had her gut twinge with hesitation - having the sudden internal collection of disconcerting déjà vu.

 

"Yes, Tom?" She still had her back to him, but was beginning to pivot around in curiosity and perhaps a bit of bemusement.

 

"I know the choirs doing a lot already, but I was wondering if I could make another song request."

 

… She really should've known.

 

**Tuesday, the 26th of March, 2019**

 

Typically through the turbulent times that overcame the choirs when it was competition season, 402 was a blur of never-ending motion - a room overflowing with musical corrections and vocal tension, amongst other things such as vowel modification. Even when the students were not occupying the space, there was almost a harried air hanging about - determined to seep distress into every crevice possible.

 

This time, there were either too few crevices to make an impact or something had changed.

 

For when Charles Carson strolled into 402, instead of swiftly trekking into the room, he'd felt far lighter than normal. He felt as though what was normally a harrowing time could be like a wave of the ocean - chaotic for the moments it rises and then dispersing its energy into the sea, releasing its watery bundle of tense nerves.

 

"Mr. Carson," Of course, she was already there - methodically working away at her desk. "I was thinking that we'd have William and Rose perform today, for the soloists, that is."

 

Charles stepped towards her for a moment, quite honestly mesmerized by the simplicity of such a moment. From time to time, it did manage to strike him how lucky he was to have come across the path of this brilliant woman - how, had he fought the administration or gone another way altogether, he would not have her presence today.

 

It would not have been a way of life he cared for, all things considered.

 

"That should be suitable, yes."

 

' _That should be suitable, yes'? That's what we decided to go with, Charlie?_

 

Here he was, enamored with the scene before him, and  _that_ had been his response.

 

Needless to say, the choir director wasn't very pleased with himself.

 

"Is something the matter, Mr. Carson?" It seems Elsie had picked up on his frustration. "We could always have Anna go instead of Rose."

 

"No, no," He paused, having gained another curious look for the sudden refusal. "As I've said before, I would much rather have the more advanced singers go earlier."

 

"This is Anna  _and_ William's first solo, Mr. Carson, whereas this will be Rose's second." Dry as sandpaper, that comment was.

 

"Is it really?" Now he had even more reason to kick himself - especially the confusion unwittingly dripping into his tone. But, at least it wasn't just Elsie's distracting presence that befuddled his recollection of the soloists: this last weekend had taken more energy than normal and that could be a perfectly acceptable excuse."I suppose we'll let Rose and William go today, then."

 

"Are you sure everything is alright?"

 

Charles stood in silence, having the urge to kick himself for his bewildered behavior. Honestly, they'd only been discussing soloists - a matter that he and Emma had had many conversations about in previous years. It wasn't as though they were discussing something terribly risqué or off-putting.

 

Though, at the thought of Mrs. Butte came the reminder of the drama that tainted the end of her presence at Downton. With that, he was reminded of having to choose between her and Elsie, and quite honestly not knowing where his decision should lie. The days of observing his colleagues quite closely, realizing he might not be able to work alongside Elsie, it all flooded his weary brain.

 

And with it all came another idea.

 

An idea that, unlike the many other ideas he'd had involving Elsie, Charles was not content to wait several weeks to voice.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," The man abruptly began, prompting her to remain rather silent in an attempt to let him speak whatever was on his mind. "I know I have inadvertently called you Elsie on many occasions, but there is something I must ask of you in that regard."

 

"Go on," She quietly encouraged, faintly looking as though her heart was sinking with disappointment. Why she had that particular look escaped him, but now was not the time to try to guess her emotions on the matter.

 

"I was wondering if I have your permission to continue addressing you as such in general?"

 

She very nearly gaped at this, disappointment only taking the time span of an eighth note to give way to pure shock.

 

"I'm not convinced I can be hearing you right," Elsie confessed, bewilderedly staring at him in an attempt to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

 

"I realize I may be overstepping the mark when I make such a suggestion, but I was thinking that - in light of our developing relationship - we would find it suitable to refer to one another as such. I would, of course, refer to you as 'Mrs. Hughes' in front of the other staff and students. And, of course, you would call me "Mr. Carson" in those situations as well."

 

He paused, almost letting the request fluster him. However, Charles Carson was not one who cared to feel as though he's gotten caught up in his emotions. And, so, he continued to muster through as a  _staccato_ -like tone directed his voice.

 

"However, I was wondering if you would be agreeable to my referring to you as 'Elsie' in other situations - and, of course, the reverse with you referring to me as 'Charles'."

 

"Now I'm convinced I did not hear you right." She repeated, blue eyes still wide with astonishment.

 

He gave her about a quarter of a minute to decide where they went next, to speak about her feelings on the matter and respond. But, once that quarter of a minute passed, he found himself too uncomfortable to remain still on the matter - deciding to take the coward's way out of this unwanted, awkward  _fermata_.

 

"Right." Hands fidgeting and choosing to tug at his collar instead, the choir director awkwardly stepped backwards towards his desk - realizing how far out of his comfort zone he'd flung himself just now. "My apologies, Mrs. Hughes-"

 

"Charles," It was hardly a murmur, let alone a sound deserving of the dynamic level  _sotto voce_.

 

But he heard it all the same.

 

"Yes?"

 

Unsure as what to refer to her as, the man chose to keep his question brief - somehow both anxious and agog about the matter to say the least.

 

"Please, call me Elsie."

 

_._

 

"Hello," The first soprano brightly spoke to class, proudly standing next to the piano in a spot close to where Mr. Carson normally resided. "My name is Rose MacClare and I will be singing 'Mandoline'."

 

"And which version of 'Mandoline' will you be singing Rose?" Elsie asked, giving the younger woman pause as she nervously looked back at her teacher. "Please, start the introduction again.

 

"Right." Cheeriness aside, it was clear that the current soloist was a bit nervous about everything. "My name is Rose MacClare and I will be singing 'Mandoline' by Debussy."

 

Sybil could tell that Mrs. Hughes's had wanted Rose to announce Claude Debussy's full name. However, the youngest Crawley sister could also tell that the older woman realized that - if they spent all their time working on the introduction - they'd never get to the song if she kept asking Rose to repeat herself.

 

And what a song it was!

 

" _Les donneurs de sérénades,"_

 

As though she were racing down a track, Rose jumped into Debussy's arrangement with great vigour. Jazz did not radiate from her as it normally did. Rather, a vivacious  _allegretto_ spun her notes and guided her tone.

 

" _Et les belles écouteuses!"_

 

It was fascinating, really. Sybil had long since grown accustomed to Fauré's version of the song - which was altogether a very different sound. But, there was a different liveliness that came with Debussy's arrangement.

 

" _Echangent des propos fades_

_Sous les ramures chanteuses."_

 

Yes, she was definitely a little more accustomed to Fauré's.

 

Still, Debussy's certainly fit Rose's personality quite well.

 

_._

 

"William, are you ready?"

 

The young tenor stood up both quickly and hesitantly - awkwardly fumbling to his feet and ignoring the snorts of laughter around him.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

 

The truth was, he didn't feel ready in the slightest.

 

_._

 

" _With sorrow, deep sorrow,_

_My bosom is laden,"_

 

Elsie was pleased to note that snorts and snickers had given way to swoons once William had let go of his inhibitions and allowed himself to just sing.

 

" _All day I go mourning_

_In search of my love."_

 

The tenor was, of course, oblivious to all attention - having been staring directly at the windows this entire time.

 

" _Ye echoes,_

_O tell me,_

_Where is my sweet maiden?"_

 

At least he was singing, instead of shying away like he had been at the sight of everyone else.

 

" _She sleeps 'neath the green turf_

_Down by the Ash grove."_

 

William continued to stare at the windows, holding his ground even though Elsie knew he wanted to retreat back into his seat.

 

She was proud of him in any case. Having a solo took more than people thought it did - especially because, unlike in a choir setting, one person couldn't disappear back into the crowd. They had to stand there, acknowledge that they were the only singer on stage, and take whatever came their way.

 

Though, when they did just that, usually they were brilliant. After all, the audience was rarely as harsh as the performer was. Typically, she'd discovered people were far more impressed with the idea of singing in the first, and almost always enjoyed just hearing the sound for the most part.

 

All in all, being a soloist was a rewarding challenge - one that Elsie suspected the young tenor was only now starting to truly grasp.

 

**Wednesday, the 27th of March, 2019**

 

They'd been walking to the school when she remembered she'd have to sing her solo in front of everyone today. That thought alone brought a paleness and a nervous energy she didn't want to deal with.

 

"Anna, what's wrong?"

 

"Nothing," The soprano lied, feeling a bit foolish for being so scared.

 

But, John wouldn't take that for an answer.

 

"Something's wrong, Anna." He brought them to a stop, "Was it something I did?"

 

His question, so earnestly asked, took her away from her worries for a moment.

 

"Not at all!" She said, hoping her sincerity was conveyed.

 

"If I didn't do something, then what's wrong?"

 

The young man gave her a moment to gather her bearings, not wanting to see her act so nervous. Even if it wasn't obvious to the world, he could tell that she was bothered by something - that there was something wrong.

 

"I just," She looked at the pavement for a moment, before meeting his questioning gaze. "I just don't know if I'm really ready to sing a solo in front of everyone. It's one thing to do it with Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, it's another thing to do it in front of everyone else, and -"

 

"Hey," John reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Sing to me."

 

"But, I'm supposed to interact with my audience."

 

"I'm in the audience, aren't I?" It was sprinkled with a gentle tease that coaxed her mouth into twitching a little - unable to remain fully distressed.

 

"I suppose so." He sent her a smile, his eyes brimming with mirth.

 

Soon enough, they continued on their way to school. Her nerves wouldn't be completely gone, but they were a bit diminished.

 

And that's all he could really ask for.

 

_._

 

Mary was standing in one of the older restroom stalls of the school - practicing a breathing exercise she'd learned from the Alexander Technique. Keeping her mouth open, as though she were gaping, the soprano quietly allowed her breath to continue on as it normally would. However, she silently mouthed an "Ah" to herself throughout each exhale, making sure it was quiet enough not to gain attention.

 

The technique, an equivalent of the Alexander Technique's "Whispered Ah", always helped to calm her down. And this was especially when she followed the explicit instructions of her previous instructors. While the "Whispered Ah" was helpful, her version of it - which the young woman referred to as the "Silent Ah" - was easier to grasp when nerves were taking over.

 

Mary had been perfectly fine, more than ready to perform her solo in front of her classmates today. Then, a chance encounter with Matthew in the halls - combined with Rose still going on about how impressive it is that Mrs. Hughes now has more than 20,000 views on Youtube - messed with her a little. It resulted in her having slipped out of her second class of the day, citing a need to use the toilet when her teacher inquired as to her stepping out, and retreating into a stall so as to get a hold of herself.

 

The truth was, she herself was more than a little nervous about the matter and had needed to walk away from class in order to breathe.

 

Yes, the eldest Crawley sister had performed solos in the past and, yes, she was no stranger to the art of performing.

 

She still felt unusually nauseous about the whole matter. Something that would hopefully dissipate with after she finally sang.

 

_._

 

When Anna finally took to the center of the room, John made sure to applaud just a little bit more than normal - as well as give an encouraging smile for support.

 

She gave him a nervous smile, but seemed to relax the longer they held one another's gaze.

 

"Just sing to me," He mouthed to her, and she nodded - before cueing to Mrs. Hughes that she was ready to sing.

 

And, off they went!

 

" _Loveliest of trees,_

_The cherry now_

_Is hung with bloom_

_Along the bough,"_

 

Though Anna was the only one singing, he felt as though he right there with her in the front of the class.

 

" _And stands about_

_The woodland ride_

_Wearing white_

_For Eastertide."_

 

Her voice continued to grow, steadily gaining a confidence the further she sang.

 

And, even more astonishing, she continued to sing to him as she interacted with the rest of the crowd - branching out in her gaze.

 

_._

 

After Anna's successful rehearsal, Mary couldn't help but feel more pressure than normal. It really didn't make sense in her opinion, but it was the truth.

 

"Mary? Are you ready?"

 

Mr. Carson was the one to ask this time around - prompting her to almost sigh with frustration. She had the funniest feeling she was about to disappoint him, that today's run-through in front of her peers was not going to be one she cared to remembered.

 

She conveyed none of that frustration. Instead, the eldest Crawley sister rose regally to her - arranging her facial features into that prim demeanour she was so well known for.

 

"Of course I am," She remarked with great decorum, taking her time to walk to the front.

 

"I'm sure you'll be brilliant."

 

Matthew's whisper of encouragement was almost lost to her thoughts, but she heard it. Only hesitating for a second longer than normal, Mary gave a brief nod in response - far more warmed by the confident than she could say.

 

It made this a little more bearable.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Instead of waiting for today's  _a cappella_  rehearsal, Tom seemed content to jump the gun on his question and ask at the end of class. "I was wondering if you had a chance to think over my request."

 

"I did." She gave him a look, having been thinking about the matter ever since he suggested it.

 

Little did she know, they were being overheard by someone else - someone who did not like the sound of this.

 

"And what did you think?"

 

"I can agree to your song request, on one condition," The eavesdropper continued to listen, wanting to hear just what was going on. "Since it is last minute and a bit more complicated than 'Irish Blessing', I am only going to grant your request if your  _a cappella_ classmates are comfortable with the extra work."

 

Charles Carson refrained from giving any explicit form of approval at this, having been concerned that this request of Tom's was going to be yet another thing to add to Elsie's plate. However, at the sound of her condition - something that certainly surprised him - he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that she was thinking the matter through. This was infinitely preferable to her normal acquiescing.

 

"I can agree to that," Tom eagerly spoke.

 

"I'm glad to hear it," Elsie responded.

 

Yes, Charles had a feeling that these next few days - this next period of time, honestly - was not going to be nearly as stressful as it has been.

 

Something that was immensely appreciated, of that he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: I promise that, while I couldn't include the solo competition in this chapter, it'll be posted by the end of this week. Moreover, I definitely will respond to everyone as soon as I can!
> 
> Also, having experienced both many times, I can easily say the most stressful competition of the two was the first competition. Therefore, for any readers who felt a little overwhelmed by the previous chapter, know that the most stressful competitive aspect is over! :)


	24. Gaudy Slips and Vocal Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19 A/N: Make sure to start at Chapter 19 if you're just reading this today!
> 
>  
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
> The songs for this chapter are as follows:
> 
> "Lass from the Low Countree" ~~~ "The Lass From the Low Countree Hope Koehler"
> 
> "Mandoline" ~~~ "Claude Debussy - Mandoline (audio + voice)"
> 
> "Shenandoah" ~~~ "Treble Women's Choir - Shenandoah"
> 
> "I Will Be Earth ~~~ "Songs for Women's Voices: I Will Be Earth"
> 
> "Dance On My Heart" ~~~ "Dance on my Heart Allan Koepke Iowa West"
> 
> "Esto Les Digo" ~~~ "Esto Les Digo Choir Lane Tech"
> 
> Also, this chapter plays around with grammar tenses, in an effort to have a little fun and play around with prose. Furthermore, due to the nature of this competition, timestamps won't be used today - in an effort to reflect the ever-changing nature of this competition.
> 
> In short, while everything runs on a schedule, this is the type of concert where you will get nowhere if you pay attention to the time. Hope you enjoy it!

**Saturday, the 30th of March, 2019**

 

They had been bickering about the matter for several minutes, as they had been wont to do throughout this morning. Having met up at the train station to journey to the Strallan School of Arts - the host for their final competition this semester - they'd engaged in several conversations on the train ride over involving today's events.

 

Needless to say, this was probably the fifth time in the hour that they'd broached this particular subject.

 

"I do believe we can trust them to sing without our direction, Mr. Carson," Elsie chided - barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "They have been working with their ensembles for severals week now."

 

"I recognize that, Mrs. Hughes," He huffed in response - agitated by the nerves that always snatched away his confidence on days like today. "I'm not suggesting they're incapable of performing without us,"

 

"Then what are you suggesting, Mr. Carson?" He outright sighed this time, looking up at the passing scenery with a hint of uneasiness.

 

"Only that I would feel infinitely more comfortable if we  _were_  allowed to direct them."

 

"Well, we couldn't possibly conduct them from the side, certainly not with the schedule that you've described to me. Unless you'd like to clone yourself in order to be multiple places at once?" He sent her a look at the tease, not in the mood for the playfully acerbic remark. "Though I hardly imagine that cloning yourself would help the situation."

 

"Mrs. Hughes," The choir director snapped, causing her to immediately withdraw - now recognizing that she was apparently pushing her colleague far too past his comfort zone. "Would you kindly desist in these gaudy teases until after the competition? Or is this how we are to proceed throughout the day?"

 

She shouldn't have been terribly affronted by the gruff tone - having worked with enough musicians to know that this was nerves hard at work. Still, that remark did burn a little more than normal and her own feelings - feelings that were also unusually on edge - made it difficult to let the rhetorical question slide off her shoulders.

 

So, she didn't.

 

The pair snuck back into silence, letting the train ride and the outside world speak instead. He was frustrated and upset, not knowing what to say but wanting to say something. She just wanted to get the competition started, having no desire in making any of this more burdensome than it needed to be.

 

And soon enough, they'd be doing just that.

 

_._

 

Edith Crawley is one of the first to arrive at Strallan's - or, SSA, as a few students jokingly referred to it as - and takes the time to walk through the hallways of the school before everything begins.

 

The three-story building is older than Carlisle Institute, having existed for quite some time. It is one of those good schools that tends to be overlooked, one that had a brilliant prime in the early 20th century before fading into the the present day background.

 

She always likes visiting it when she can - finding it to be a soothing presence, reminding her of Downton.

 

And, now that she's here to compete, there is a certain comfort she finds in traversing these hallways.

 

"Edith, did you see today's list yet?" Darling Sybil, who is here to support her sisters in their solo endeavours while competing with her own ensemble, walks up to her with trepidation.

 

"Not yet," Though, she suspects from her sister's face that whatever Sybil wants to share will not be a good thing. "Why?"

 

"You're first." Mary primly declares, appearing from practically nowhere. "And you're supposed to sing in ten minutes."

 

_Oh._

 

_I see._

 

Butterflies begin to skate up and down Edith at the statement, a woozy feeling running through her breath as she momentarily forgets her place. The fears that have danced throughout her for the last few months come back tenfold, uncertainty mercilessly constricting her lungs.

 

But, then her eyes remember to look around the hallway she is in. And the nerves don't settle down or stop, but they certainly loosen a bit. Constriction gives way to shaky breaths that fight for some form of control, fear stumbles into something that's not quite excitement but isn't terror.

 

"Are you ready?"

 

Her sisters watch her curiously - Sybil hoping for the best while Mary continues to observe.

 

Surprisingly, "I am." is the only the thought that comes to mind.

 

It feels like seconds later that she's being ushered into the direction of a classroom. Unlike the last competition, there is no stage. Just a science room complete with lab instruction posters, cold desks just waiting for experimentation to happen, and a barren air that demands a sterile cleanliness.

 

The judge waits for her in the center of the desks, the space between them is far enough it's as though she's in another world. The rest of family is sequestered in the corner, Mary and Sybil joining them before Edith realizes she's alone again.

 

Rose isn't there. Edith doesn't really mind. Aunt Rosamund and Mama smile encouragingly, Papa looks as though he's trying to be encouraging but is out of his league. Sybil is openly grinning, Mary is observing coldly, and Granny is holding a hint of encouragement in her sharp eyes.

 

She's not ready but she is. It's strange, the nerves and calm mixing together to create a sense of flurried balance. But she can't think of this, not when the judge is looking up and nodding at her to start.

 

"Hello," She's looking somewhere between the judge and her family - feeling detached from everything and yet so terribly connected to it all. "I am Edith Crawley and I will be singing the 'Lass From the Low Countree' by John Jacob Niles."

 

She glances at Mrs. Hughes, finds her heart warming up by the sight of the woman at the piano. It's a comforting thought to remember her biggest academic supporter would be her, that she wasn't really alone.

 

It's time to begin.

 

With the tiniest of gestures from the second soprano, the older woman starts to roll through the dramatic opening chords. And, with a calm resignation, Edith lets the lyric pour forth in a storm of sound.

 

" _Oh he was a Lord of high degree,"_

 

In her eyes, she can picture this Lord of high degree, this gentleman, with his sweeping mannerisms and supposedly noble demeanour. It only makes her heart go out to the lass in this story, her voice soon foreshadowing the misfortune that was sure to follow the nameless woman.

 

" _And she was a lass from the Low Countree,"_

 

Already, Mama is in beginning to tear up, the anguish melting into the soprano's voice as though she were confessing her life's story.

 

" _But she loved his Lordship so tenderly,_

_Oh sorrow, sing sorrow!"_

 

She mentally gulps in any air she can, images of past loves now crackling to life in her mind and disrupting the calm.

 

" _Now she sleeps in the valley_

_Where the wild flowers nod._

_And no one know she loves him but herself,_

_And God."_

 

They all unwilling drink in the foreboding silence, knowing that the song is far from complete and already sensing its conclusion.

 

But there is still more to come.

 

" _One morn' when the sun was on the mead,_

_He passed by her door on a milk white steed,"_

 

Chilling chords dipped into her voice, ominous notes dripping onto the floor as her story falls into bitter melancholy.

 

" _She smiled and she spoke,_

_But he paid no heed._

_Oh sorrow, sing sorrow!"_

 

Summoning the power of  _forte_ , she charges into the chorus of the song - a hint of something dark within the lugubrious tone.

 

" _Now she sleeps in the valley_

_Where the wild flowers nod,_

_And no one knows she loved him_

_But herself and God."_

 

Edith's eyes haunt the room, the taste of frost entrenching the space as she guides them into the final section of the song: her warning.

 

" _If you be a lass from the Low Countree,"_

 

Caution seeps into the  _mezzo-piano_ , telling this little audience that she is not finished.

 

Not in the slightest.

 

" _Don't love of no Lord of_

_High degree."_

 

Ire floods her voice as a rising fury, a bitter wrath, flings her words far past  _forte._

 

" _They hain't got a heart for sympathy!_

_Oh sorrow, sing sorrow!"_

 

Fury spins into a lamenting resentment, her tone washing through the despairing chorus once more.

 

" _Now she sleeps_

_In the valley where the_

_Wild flowers nod._

_And no one knows she loved him_

_But herself,"_

 

Edith pauses, absorbing the grief and pain one final time as she sinks into her lower register.

 

" _And God."_

 

She maintains the final notes solemnly, committed to conveying the mournful message and nothing else. The score doesn't matter, Mary's approval doesn't matter, only connecting to the message of the piece.

 

She will be one of the highest ranked soloists of the day.

 

_._

 

Charles watches her as she glances at her students. She's unable to do more than sit in on this performance for the time being, and he's just glad she's made the time to drop by for this. With what happened this morning, he wouldn't have been surprised if she had chosen to ignore any performance he'd be accompanying on the piano.

 

"Hello," Charlotte William confidently greets the judge once everyone in the ensemble is lined up. "We are the Downton Academy's Beginning Girl's Ensemble,"

 

The young woman continues to introduce the ensemble, but he finds himself unable to focus on the students for once. He only has eyes for the woman who is nodding in approval from the desks - the one whose watchful gaze is concentrating solely on the young singers before her.

 

The man's still bothered by their lack of resolution from what he refers to as the "train conversation", having been pondering a way of rectify the situation ever since it happened. It's not that he wanted to snap at her, he just can't help the fact that he's nervous and her teasing barbs were too sharp this morning.

 

Still, in a moment like this,

 

" _Oh Shenandoah,"_

 

In these precious few minutes in which the piano's position allows him to subtly observe her throughout his dutiful accompaniment,

 

" _I long to see you,"_

 

In this time in which she's captivated, taken in by the breathiness and the harmless mistakes that come with singers still starting out, he can momentarily forget about his snappishness and her retorts.

 

" _Away_

_You rolling river."_

 

But only for a moment.

 

_._

 

The young man slips into the classroom when his friend isn't looking, taking advantage of her focus on the judge and the song itself.

 

" _Tourbillonnent dans l'extase,"_

 

However, once Rose realizes that Jack has dropped by to watch her - discreetly taking a seat near Cora - she can't help but let her beam of delight overtake her. Her friend, a delightfully talented singer who comes up from London to occasionally visit, is able to support her today and that means so very much to her.

 

" _D'une lune rose et grise,"_

 

And if her radiant beam increases, if her eyes glow with happiness now that she sees him, then his appearance is even better.

 

_._

 

"Hello," Laura Edmunds has been designated as the announcer for the ensemble, proudly taking on the role. "We are Downton Academy's Advanced Women's Ensemble and we will be performing 'I Will Be Earth' by Gwyneth Walker."

 

Elsie's pleased to say that she gets to be the accompanist for this ensemble, having been the one to suggest the song. The only thing that she's not exactly pleased about is the fact that Charles can't be there.

 

Though, with the stinging silence from the train ride over, perhaps that's for the best. She's not particularly interested in just letting his comment slide by, even if she does want his support and knows it was just nerves.

 

Either way, she can't focus on that conversation - not if they want to do well. All she can do now is faithfully let her fingers dip into the piano keys and guide her ensemble's voices toward a grounded sound.

 

" _I will be Earth,_

_You be the flower."_

 

Her eyes spot a recording device tucked away in the corner, her concentration drifting for a heartbeat as she takes in the subtle revelation.

 

" _You have found my root,_

_You are the rain."_

 

So, he will be able to catch the recording, even if he can't be here in person.

 

_._

 

They are all three in agreement from the beginning that Mrs. Hughes will be the accompanist for the young soprano. The choir director says it's because she's the better pianist of the two, but the soprano and the pianist in question know it's so that he can see the performance.

 

Well, now it's time to do just that.

 

Mary, nervous as she may be, finds herself all too ready to perform. The sight of Mr. Carson sitting alongside her family is a balm for the butterflies fluttering about her stomach, the knowledge that Mrs. Hughes knows her to be capable of a great performance the icing on top.

 

She can perform brilliantly and she will perform brilliantly. Her German will flow quite elegantly, her notes will blend rather tranquilly, she will be one of the best soloists of the day if not the best.

 

And there will be no question about it.

 

_._

 

"Ber- Mrs. Patmore? What are you doing here?" Daisy looks on with astonishment as the band director barrels her way past the choir director and into the room. "Weren't you supposed to be with your sister-?"

 

"I can't stay for long, but I just had to drop by to see them."

 

The judge looks incredibly unimpressed by this blatant disruption, but the woman unabashedly makes her way to the first line of desks - sitting as close to the Bel Canto choir as she can. Daisy's gaping in wonder at all of this, and Beryl gives her an encouraging grin in response as she continues to radiate confidence.

 

It's then that the younger singer realizes she's supposed to be announcing their little ensemble.

 

"Hi," She shyly begins, before remembering she had supporters in the room. "We are the Beginning Women's Ensemble of Downton Academy and we will be singing 'Dance on My Heart' by Allan Koepke."

 

The band director gives a quiet applause of approval, coaxing tentative smiles from the ensemble as the young ladies forget they're at a competition.

 

And, within seconds, the sprightly tone - one that seems far too cheerful coming from Mr. Carson - starts them off.

 

" _Once two handsome gentlemen_

_Asked a fair young maid a question,"_

 

Beryl leaned in curiously, taking their sweet little song quite seriously.

 

"' _What must we do to win your hand_

_And gain your kind affection?'"_

 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The ensemble catches the murmur just barely, the effect instantaneous: life continues to seep into their tone and the young ladies truly start to have fun - realizing this can be enjoyable.

 

" _One said he was stronger by far_

_Than any other man that she'd meet!"_

 

This time, there's no murmur. Only a clear sign that the band director's not taken with that statement.

 

" _Also being braver than most said,_

' _Please marry me. I'm adoringly sweet!'"_

 

An eye-roll broke out from the front row of desks, continuing to inspire playfulness within the song.

 

" _Then said the other,_

' _What if I give you_

_Diamonds and pearls,_

_Would you be my wife?'"_

 

No eye-roll from the peanut gallery of the classroom: only a raised eyebrow and a look that says,  _I might be open to considering that offer, but emphasis on the 'might'._

 

"' _I can offer power and riches,_

_All through your life,_

_You'll be satisfied."_

 

Now a nod of thoughtful consideration emanates, and if the ensemble could they would have burst into snickers.

 

"' _Well,' She replied,_

' _I made my selection_

_And you'd receive my love and affection_

_**If**_   _you danced on my heart,_

_If you sang to my soul.'"_

 

With an audience so enthralled as Mrs. Patmore, the girls and Mr. Carson cannot help but take their sweet time with the pause - milking the interest as much as they can.

 

"' _But, alas,_

_My heart is not pounding._

_And, your songs are not sounding.'"_

 

Regret shifts into a swift resolution; one that the older woman approves of wholeheartedly.

 

"' _Therefore, I cannot marry you!'"_

 

The jolly tune returns to the space, a sweet signal of the future lyrics to come.

 

" _Then a kindly gentleman_

_Asked the fair young maid a question._

' _What must I do to win your hand_

_And gain your kind affection?'"_

 

Beryl leans forward once again, willing to hear out this kindly gentleman.

 

"' _I can only promise to love you,_

_Be by your side through all of your life._

_I will be your faithful companion,_

_Come take my hand._

_Say you'll be my wife.'"_

 

Beady eyes glance in the direction of the piano for a quarter of a note before directing themselves back towards the ensemble. But, this is about the ensemble, not the people who run it. And therefore, Beryl spares no more thoughts towards that line of thought.

 

... At least, not right now.

 

"' _Sir,' She replied,_

_'You are my selection_

_And you'll receive my love and affection_

_For you dance on my heart,_

_And you sing to my soul.'"_

 

A beam emerges from the front row, so delighted by the charming story before her.

 

"' _I'll take your hand,_

_Wear your wedding band._

_Yes, kind sir, I will marry you!"_

 

It doesn't matter what the judge decides on their performance:

 

Beryl personally, happily, gives them a perfect score.

 

_._

 

He crosses her path in the chaos, and manages to realize that they are indeed surviving today's ordeal - that their students are doing incredibly well.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," She doesn't hear his call, determinedly walking towards yet another classroom in these dusty halls.

 

He settles for reaching out, managing to grasp her wrist before she's gone. The action halts her movement, but he struggles to find the words he wants to bestow upon her - lacking the eloquent thoughts meant to voice something worthy of her attention.

 

After a minute it's clear that he still can't find the words, but she finds herself able to continue trying to listen.

 

The touch fades into the air, the tense mood slips. Understanding doesn't quite fall into the air, but there's something like it.

 

_Please, forgive me and forget what I said. That wasn't kind nor was it right._

 

Touch is gone, but the connection is coming back.

 

_I can._

 

He reaches out once again, forgetting where they are.

 

She lets his hand rest on her arm for a second time, softening a bit even though he can tell there's still pain from before.

 

"Mr. Carson?"

 

It's Andy who interrupts them, oblivious to the scene he's disrupting.

 

"Thomas will be performing in just a few minutes," He reminds them - not wanting his friend's accompanist to be absent.

 

"We ought to get going," She's back to being a detached version of the teacher he'd grown to respect, briskly following after the tenor with an apathetic professionalism he never wanted to see from her again.

 

But in those blue eyes, there's a trace of forgiveness.

 

_._

 

As the judge is readying himself for Thomas's solo, the baritone in question is staring at the floor in anticipation. The classroom's empty except for him and the judge - reminding the young man of his support, or lack thereof.

 

It's not surprising; he hasn't gone out of his way to make friends as of late. And with O'Brien probably still looking for a way to get revenge on his getting rid of Mrs. Butte, he probably had lost his other supporters in the process.

 

But, still, he'd been hoping that-

 

The door creaks open, and he glances up in confusion.

 

Andy's there with a reassuring smile and company.

 

But it's not just his friend and Mr. Carson, his current accompanist.

 

Matthew is also there, as well as Anna, Sybil, Daisy, Phyllis, and - surprisingly enough - Cora Crawley.

 

"My apologies, Thomas," The choir director says as he walks towards the piano situated in the room. "I'm afraid I'd lost track of time. And, Mrs. Hughes sends her apologies - James has been scheduled for the same time as you."

 

The baritone's still fixated on the sudden attention - the individuals he never expected to be there for him  _are_  here and supporting him all the same.

 

It brings a hint of relief and a determination to make them all terribly, terribly proud.

 

_._

 

Now, seeing as how he had been Thomas's accompanist, Mr. Carson hadn't been able to catch James's performance.

 

Though, by the looks of the tenor's scowl and Elsie's strained demeanour, the tenor did not receive the score he expected.

 

_._

 

_Sing to me._

 

"Hello,"

 

_Just sing to me like we've always done._

 

"My name is Anna Smith,"

 

_I'm already so very proud of you._

 

"And I will be singing 'Loveliest of Trees' by John Duke."

 

_You're going to be absolutely brilliant, that I promise._

 

_._

 

Turnabout is only fair game.

 

Especially when Andy looks so adorably confused by his unexpected arrival.

 

"Hi," The tenor is this ensemble's announcer, having willingly stepped forth to speak on their behalf. "We are Downton Academy's Beginning Male Ensemble, and we will be singing 'For the Beauty of the Earth' by John Rutter."

 

Andy's not the only one unable to fully focus. At the sound of the composer, a fondness briefly grabs Mrs. Hughes's demeanour and she cannot help but faintly smile - remembering another song composed by that same man.

 

She's no longer convinced it is coincidence that this was Mr. Carson's suggestion. It doesn't take away from the fact that she's unable to be on fully good terms with the man today. But, it does remind her of lovely memories that help to ease today's pain.

 

Similarly, Andy's definitely not convinced Thomas isn't fully enjoying this little role reversal. It won't detract from the fact that he thinks this role reversal is totally unnecessary. Nevertheless, this silly change in role does serve to distract the tenor from the fears that come with performing.

 

_._

 

"Best of luck to you," William hears the whisper as he starts to make his way into the classroom he's to sing in. He smiles nervously at Daisy, who is one of his supporters in the room, as he waits for a chance to sing. His heart's galloping far past  _moderato_ , his palms are sweating from the fear of what'll happen next, and-

 

"You  _are_  intending to perform sometime today, right?"

 

The judge's thinly veiled sarcasm is enough to get him blushing and flustered.

 

Here's hoping he got a ranking of "Fair" by the end of it.

 

_._

 

It's the final ensemble for Downton today.

 

Naturally, Charles is pleased beyond measure that it will be the Chambers ensemble - a special ensemble comprised of only students who auditioned from the Concert Choir - that will finish their part of the competition.

 

And, since it is an  _a cappella_ piece, he can only hope that she will be there. Even if he never officially apologized, even though there was still a bit of a rift between them, surely she would sit in on anything related to  _a cappella._

 

And, much to his relief, he's correct:

 

She slips into the room with a graceful ease, quietly taking a seat with a natural decorum he can't help but be drawn to. Even though she's not interested in meeting his gaze, she is taken with the idea of watching them perform.

 

And, speaking of,

 

" _Esto les digo,"_

 

The dulcet Spanish tone blends into a gorgeous, soothing musical treat.

 

" _Esto les digo,"_

 

Gradually increasing in dynamic, each singer in the ensemble lets their voice wash over the audience - gently mixing their parts into one tranquil sound.

 

" _Si dos de ustedes se ponen,_

_Si dos de ustedes se ponen,"_

 

One could not listen to them and feel uneasy. Wariness, distrust, exhaustion, none of these feelings or any equivalents have a place in the presence of a song like this.

 

" _Se ponen en aquerdo,_

_Aye en, en la tierra"_

 

" _Para pedir,"_ The sopranos gracefully begin, the altos softly chorusing with the echo of the men soon following.

 

" _Pedir algo en oracion,_

_Mi padre que esta es en cielo,"_

 

Flourishing in dynamics, the ensemble powerfully rise in volume - maintaining control even as their energy grow to an all-encompassing level. For only sixteen singers, it is as though there's a choir of fifty in the room.

 

" _En el cielo,_

_En el cielo!"_

 

Dropping back from the astounding chord, sinking into  _mezzo-piano_ , the sixteen voices back off and bring the world back to an even-keel.

 

" _Se lo dara," "Se lo dara,"_

 

Similarly to before, there's a delicate reverberation between the soprano and the altos. Yet, where the third ripple should've been there is a tantalizing combination of all parts.

 

" _Se lo dara."_

 

He watches her inhale the music, visibly relaxing at the song.

 

It warms his heart far more than he can describe.

 

" _Porque donde dos o tres,_

_Porque donde dos o tres."_

 

Simple, charming, and captivating - that's why this song is chosen time and time again.

 

" _Porque donde dos o tres_

_Se reunen, en mi nombre."_

 

With the greatest of vocal range now upon the singers, they explore the depths with great pleasure - absorbing each chord possible.

 

" _Aye estoy yo._

_Aye, estoy yo."_

 

Their voices delve into the lower notes, a soft tone sweeping over the  _a cappella_ structure.

 

" _En medio de ellios._

_Medio, de ellios."_

 

And, now, it's time for Mr. Carson - and Mrs. Hughes, mind - to enjoy their favourite part of the song. Many in the audience will be receiving this privilege for the first time today. But, for the two choir teachers, this is an honor they have received on an almost weekly basis for the last semester.

 

" _Esto les digo,"_

 

Within the depths of the choral sound, a beautiful " _Esto aye,"_ floats high above the crowd - maintaining with a purity of soprano clarity not normally found.

 

" _Esto les digo,"_

" _Estoy aye_

_En medio,"_ Anna lets her voice sail high above them all again, the dazzling sound entrancing every person in the room - singers, teachers, and judge included.

 

And now, even as they all continue to fill the space with reassuring sound, her voice continues to take flight through the vocal skies.

 

" _De ellios."_

 

_._

 

The students have long since left by the time all the awards have been collected, with the medals for each soloist and ensemble long since having been given to the deserving singers.

 

And even though they should both be long gone, he's relieved to find that she's not left yet. She's still basking in the sun that's creeping out of the sky, still letting the breeze brush away the remaining burdens of the day.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," But, Charles doesn't really want to call her that - not now. It's a habit of the day, accentuated by the fact that they're near a school-setting. It's further emphasized by the fact that she's hardly looked at him since the train ride over, and her manners throughout the day - even with that one moment in the hall - have been as withdrawn as he'd been in the beginning of the school year.

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson?" Even though she has no reason to refer to him by anything else, it still hurts to hear the curt tone. "Was there a critique or comment you wished to share?"

 

"Only an apology." The man quietly answers, finally voicing the words he'd been craving to speak all day.

 

"I see." He cringes at the sound, knowing that all was not well. But, speaking during such times never boded well for the choir director. Not normally, at least.

 

Charles continues to watch her in silence, noticing the wisps of the wind that played with strands of her hair - the serene air that sweeps into her attire and reminds him of the distance between them.

 

"I suppose you rightfully think me an idiot for this morning." He eventually ventures, hoping the self-deprecating humour would garner at least a chuckle.

 

It only obtains him a sigh.

 

"I admit I do think you rather daft at times," She dryly confesses, feeling no urge to hold back her true feelings. "However, I find myself unable to classify you as an 'idiot', Charles."

 

His heart sighs in faint relief: they're back to a more intimate conversation if she's referencing him as "Charles". And, though it sends shivers of trepidation down his spine to hear that part of his name spoken once more - for with it comes hints of a future he cannot predict - he can't help but sink into a sense of calm.

 

She glances back at him, possibly catching the sudden movement. But, instead of teasing the matter or mentioning it, Elsie simply looks on at him.

 

"So, how did your day proceed?"

 

It's not a test per se, but she is throwing his words back at him. However, he can't help but take this as a chance to properly redeem himself and speak the truth.

 

"As happy as I am that we succeeded today," For they did, having scored mostly "Excellent"s and "Superior"s rankings for each ensemble and soloist. "I regret that we were unable to spend it more of it together."

 

"Even though you would have experienced my 'gaudy teases' in the process?"

 

He deserves that.

 

"I admit I was particularly daft for saying that." Charles confessed, having very little qualms about speaking the truth.

 

This got him a snort, something that released a bit of the tension he'd been carrying.

 

"I can only use nerves as an excuse for such behavior, though even nerves seem like an unworthy excuse when everything else is considered."

 

"Indeed."

 

He falls back into the quiet air, hesitating before eventually attempting to fix the matter again.

 

"I am sorry, Elsie."

 

She sighs a bit herself at this, not giving away any further clues to her emotions.

 

"I know you are." The woman took a step towards him. "And, in all fairness, I unfairly pushed and prodded you this morning."

 

"No more than normal," He defended.

 

"Charles, will you allow me to apologize for my behavior as well?"

 

"Sorry," He repeated awkwardly, mentally cursing his ineptitude at smoothly fixing the situation.

 

"It's alright." An inkling of reassurance etches itself into her words, forgiveness tracing their outline. "Just allow me the privilege of apologizing?"

 

"The 'privilege'?" Charles echoes, confused. This time, he receives an eye-roll for his trouble.

 

"I'll explain it later," She dismisses his question, but does take a step towards him. "For now, let's agree that we ought to let the matter go."

 

"But, suppose I truly insult you the next time?"

 

"We can't suppose anything, not really. Suppose 402 floods, suppose there's another budget cut, suppose the ceiling of the stage collapses?"

 

"Let's not suppose any of those things, please, Elsie." He can't help but reach out for her hand - the very idea of any of those possibilities bringing him another set of uncomfortable shivers.

 

She's by his side in seconds, hand firmly grasping him and reminding him of reality.

 

"Alright. If you do end up 'truly' insulting me, Charles," He can tell Elsie thinks he already 'truly' insulted her this morning from that tone alone, but she makes no other mention of it. "I will make sure you are fully aware of it and have multiple opportunities to atone for it. How does that sound?"

 

The humour breaks his trepidation, has him gripping her hand in relief.

 

"I think that is perfectly acceptable terms to agree to." Another cheeky look of disbelief emerges, bringing further joy back into him. He'll take cheekiness over apathy any day, especially from her.

 

"That's a relief," Regardless of her vocal talents, Elsie has probably always maintained a career in teasing others. "Now, shall we catch our train? Or would you rather be stranded here for the rest of the day?"

 

He has to seriously consider the question, even though she had already released his grip - now beginning to turn back towards the station.

 

"Would being stranded mean we're to remain at the school? Or, could we possibly explore the nearby area?"

 

It's a bold suggestion, all things considered, though he's not daring to sound intentionally flirtatious or impertinent. He just wants some time with her, time where there's no expectations for propriety and no obligations to their charges.

 

"I suppose we don't have to return to Downton immediately," She notes, stopping to think the matter through. "Though we can't stay here forever."

 

"Of course not," Agreement is all too easy to state when the truth's being spoken.

 

That doesn't stop him from holding out a little hope and offering a hand once again.

 

"Still," Charles starts, faintly reminded of an October afternoon spent in a courtyard. "I think we can afford a few hours away from the world."

 

She's silent, with her back still to him.

 

And after a few seconds, his hand falters in its position - beginning to retreat back towards his side.

 

He really should have known better.

 

In seconds, she's turning back to him, grasping his hand one more time and with more than a hint of smile on her lips.

 

"Why, Charles," Although her voice blatantly jests, her eyes held a serious desire within them. One that spoke of wanting that same freedom he yearned for. "I do believe you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: Isn't it great when people can have moments of frustration and still patch things up?
> 
> Also! All requests from the previous chapter are definitely being considered :) So, keep an eye out for your request and have a great day!


	25. Grief and Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/09/19:
> 
> This is the last of the updates for today -- now AO3 and FFN are both equal in regards to the story.  
> And, just in case, make sure you read everything from Chapter 19 to now. All those chapters were just posted today.
> 
>  
> 
> Original Author's Note:
> 
> So, it's an unusually fast update this time and that would be because I just found out that my first solo teacher passed away today. Therefore, though initially meant to be written in the usual lighthearted and lengthy tone, **this chapter is going to be short and will contain angst** as a tribute to a woman I never really got to know, but was impacted by nevertheless. It'll also be more unbeta'd than normal, because I couldn't go to bed until I posted it.
> 
> Now, if you want a good choir song to listen to - a song to help sooth away any of your own grief when a life leaves far too soon - listen to "Let My Love Be Heard - Jake Runestad" and look for the Bob Cole Conservatory Chamber Choir's version. I confess I've been playing it on repeat. Though, if you want to have grief as well as remember that it is okay, definitely consider listening to the Downton soundtrack "Life After Death". I find it's reassuring in its own way.

**Monday, the 1st of April, 2019**

 

Charles Carson normally had no interest in listening to the idle chatter of staff members or students, especially when such idle chatter was normally gossip in disguise. Nevertheless, when three staff members make it virtually impossible for him to walk past and continue towards the second fourth floor, he was unwittingly forced to listen in on their conversation.

 

"I still can't believe it happened, and just right around the corner from my classroom!" The one on the right exclaimed, carrying an air of horrified disbelief. "The nerve they had, going about such fraternization!"

 

The choir director internally froze, having no clue as to whom he was referring to - but definitely afraid of trying to decipher the cryptic remark. So concerned was Charles that he momentarily forgot that the man speaking could not possibly witness anything on the second fourth floor, seeing as how she wasn't Mrs. Bird.

 

"I'm still shocked that they were discovered in a  _broom closet_ , and only an hour after the school day had officially ended. I mean, honestly, there's a great audacity in partaking in-"

 

His two other companions shushed her before Mr. Carson could hear just what it was that was being classified as so improper.

 

"Mr. Wilson! Not in front of the students!" There was hardly anyone milling about the hallway though, considering the fact that it was not even past 7 o'clock in the morning. "Though, I quite agree: I would have never suspected Miss Walker and Mr. Wright participating in  _those_  sorts of activities!"

 

Mr. Carson really wished he could just slip by the trio of gossipers and ignore their statements. For now he had a good guess as to what had transpired. And that conclusion only provided indecorous images of Elsie and himself, engaging with one another in a manner possibly similar to Miss Walker and Mr. Wright, in the closet of 403. In that location, they'd be unlikely to be disturbed or discovered - with numerous other benefits coming to mind the more he contemplated it.

 

Worse still, much to his horrified astonishment, Charles found himself unashamedly letting those images develop themselves. Suddenly, he had the desire to investigate the potential of this situation and see how reality would allow them to play out such a thought.

 

"Well, one's thing for sure," Mr. Wilson warned them, "You can bet that they will not be teaching for the rest of term."

 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." The quiet companion on the left spoke up, garnering Charles's curiosity. "A severe reprimand is in order, but I hardly think a suspension is warranted."

 

"Do you now, Mrs. Thompson?" The one on the right sarcastically asked. "And when we find out that she seduced him in an effort to advance in her department?"

 

"Mr. Wright teaches History, Miss Walker teaches English, Miss Harris. There would be no purpose for seduction."

 

But, the damage was already done. The old insecurities - the one that had prompted him to refrain from any sort of unprofessional conduct in the presence of Elsie - reared themselves once again. The realization that the school will find out about their relationship if they continue made its presence known. And the frustrating understanding that Elsie would be subjected to the same assumptions Miss Walker currently is also came to mind.

 

Charles cannot go back to the way things were, that's just not possible. But, he would not stand for such treatment of Elsie.

 

So, he cannot just let the matter go.

 

Nevertheless, as he eventually finds himself getting away from the trio of gossips and traversing up to the second fourth floor, he feels a sense of something new overtake him. It's not a suppressing thought of decorum, it's not a constriction sense of propriety or draining urge of professionalism.

 

It is something Charles cannot describe just yet. Something that tells the man that he wants to take whatever may come their way as Elsie's equal. As much as he'd want to shield her from any hint of scandal, although he wants to keep her virtue intact, he craves the ability to know that they are partners in whatever comes next - that they are more than just colleagues or good friends.

 

And with that partnership, he recognizes there needs to be - in the words of Tennyson - one equal temper.

 

One equal trust.

 

The door creaks open to 402, and reveals not any particular sound but a disconcerting energy instead:

 

Grief.

 

"Elsie?"

 

She had her back to him, clearly staring at something on her phone and simultaneously attempting not to cry.

 

"Elsie, what's the matter?"

 

All thoughts of earlier, all the risqué ponderings and silly fantasies, have long since fled at this sight. He's never seen her look so defeated, so worn down and yet so deathly still.

 

And it takes her far longer than normal to say anything, let alone respond.

 

"A colleague of mine from many years ago just passed." She numbly speaks, her brief and blunt explanation telling him far more than she currently can, "Due to cancer."

 

He does not hesitate to take her into his arms. And though she momentarily fights the urge to cry, even though she battles the desire to openly grieve for the loss of a life and a teacher that was gone far too soon, he is there to let her feel unsteady. He is patient and he is content to embrace her, to give her the time she needs to realize that it is okay to cry - that she can trust him and give into her emotions.

 

"Far too soon," It's repeatedly, mechanically, muttered as tears begin to seep into his button-up shirt - her attempts to refrain from shaking in his arms inevitably still wrinkling the material. He finds himself unable to care in the slightest. "It was far too soon."

 

He rubs circles into her back, wrapping her even closer and silently urging her release her pain - to give into the grief and the memories and to let go. He will stand here for as long as necessary, in this old room tucked away from the rest of the school. He will hold her in his arms, remind her that she is not alone and that she doesn't have to be alone if she doesn't wish it, and he will remain in this spot for as long as necessary.

 

And, when she finally lets herself break, he cries with her.

 

_._

 

William had dropped by the school earlier than normal, in an effort to inquire about about the competitions and hear how Downton officially ranked all in all.

 

When he comes upon 402 and sees his teachers through the glass in the door - their combined sorrow terribly obvious from his first glance- he instantly backpedals out of the corridor and back down the stairs.

 

Whatever he'd almost interrupted, it's not worth it to find out about scoring.

 

_._

 

Eventually, the tears had to subside. The sobs have to fade out of existence and the shakes have to quiet down.

 

For there comes a point in which you could only cry for so long before there's nothing left.

 

And when that point comes, all Elsie could do is remain in Charles's arms - feeling both inordinately discombobulated and rather numb. She had proceeded through the morning oblivious to the news, having been unaware that anything had even been wrong. However, checking her Facebook only minutes before Charles, seeing the announcement come from another friend, it had resulted in her being unable to compartmentalize the pain for after the school day had completed.

 

"I still can't believe it,"

 

But the whisper felt pointless even as she utters it.

 

"I know," She feels his voice gently rumble, breaking her concentration. "I know."

 

Elsie doesn't want to glance at the clock. Nor does she want to teach anything today.

 

But it's already 7:29am, and they need to continue with the day.

 

She can't stop just yet.

 

"I take it we're still in agreement about announcing for the solo opportunity as well as the scores today?"

 

"Elsie,"

 

"Liz would have been the first to say that the show must continue, whatever else."

 

"Elsie,"

 

Her breath caught as a hand tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly guided her eyes towards his. But, she couldn't give in to his silent request.

 

"Please, allow me this, Charles."  _Allow me just a few hours where I can forget._

 

The words were stilted, sounding far more broken than anything he'd ever heard from her.

 

"Please."

 

_._

 

"Ladies," He had allowed her these announcements, these chances of escaping the morning's dreadful news. "We will be focusing on one of the finales today."

 

Immediately, many of Bel Canto brightened as "You Are the Music" began to be passed out - so delighted to be done with their competitions. Naturally, as with so many other musicians, once the new sheets of music were passed out, nothing else entered their thoughts.

 

"Now, as you may have noticed," Some of them did indeed notice what she was about to point out, having been eyeing the music even more carefully once they saw the first few lines. "There is a solo. What you may not already know is that this solo is open to  _any_  performer who wants to audition."

 

The choir teachers briefly shared a look, not saying a word as every student immediately straightened up. Instead of the forty pairs of sharp eyes that came with announcing soprano solos, every gaze in front of her was unapologetically pinning her down.

 

"Of course," Mr. Carson carried on for her, realizing that the young ladies probably expected to be auditioning as soon as today. "Auditions will be held starting Wednesday. And, unlike previous processes, you will only be able to audition  _during_ class."

 

Well,  _that_ had not been a part of the original agreement.

 

But, Elsie still finds herself nodding along - unable to care about these unexpected terms and conditions.

 

She should've been amused by the whole matter - or at least exasperated by the sudden attention, if not Charles's attempt to maneuver the situation. It only figured that once there was a chance for everyone to be in the limelight, they'd all be giving their full focus. And, it only made sense that he would want to change the auditioning process so as to lighten their collective load - even if his manner of doing so was a bit underhanded.

 

All in all, this silliness should have sparked some form of faintly bemused fondness.

 

Instead, Elsie could only feel a sense of detachment from everything.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes,"

 

Charles was not the only one glaring at James for interrupting the morning announcements - it looked like William was not having it with the tenor.

 

"Yes, Jimmy?"

 

To seventy percent of the room, Elsie clearly looked strained by something or at the very least worn down by some unpleasant news.

 

Jimmy was not a part of that percentage.

 

"I was just wondering if you or Mr. Carson had received any information about the scoring from the Carlisle competition." He wasn't foolish enough to ask about the rankings for the solo competition - knowing that the judge hadn't liked his rendition, which damaged his personal scoring.

 

Charles looked as though he wanted to firmly rebuke this request, but Elsie was already responding.

 

"The Concert Choir took second place," She recited from memory, thankful she'd known them for a few days now. "Bel Canto took third, Bass took fifth, and Treble took seventh."

 

"But who took first place?" The tenor continued to question her, still oblivious.

 

_That's quite enough,_ Charles sharply thought as he none-too-gently cut in.

 

"Grey's Advanced Ensemble took first place, though the scoring was very close. In regards to our soloist efforts, due to the rankings, Thomas and Mary will be performing for our show. All ensembles will also be performing, of course. And, once I've collected everything, I will be sharing the official critiques tomorrow. Now, is that all, James?"

 

At the gruff sound of his choir director, there could only be one response:

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

 

The tenor promptly knew to remain quite silent and let the rehearsal carry on.

 

In practically any other circumstance, Mr. Carson would have been more than happy to go into detail about the matter - for they had done amazing and he was indeed very proud, grief and shock aside. In fact, he was still looking forward to going into details about what they did. Ever since they'd received the scorings in the mail, he'd been eager to delve into just what the judges said, to dissect the critiques and see what could be improved upon.

 

In this moment, he had no interest in any of it whatsoever.

 

Not when it looked like Elsie still looked as drained and defeated as she did three hours ago.

 

_._

 

Charles has managed to convince her to come with him to the courtyard, has coaxed her into venturing out into the outdoor space for the first time together in weeks.

 

And once she finally sits by the edge of one of the fountains - not content with the sunshine, but not really reacting to anything in general - he finds himself able to ask the question that had sprung to mind not long after finding out.

 

"Tell me about her."

 

He almost believes that she hasn't heard him - that she's so lost in her mind that no questions could penetrate the fog. But, after a half a minute, a response comes.

 

"Liz was a quiet soul," Elsie eventually offers in a quiet tone, her voice managing not to crack as she said "was". "A brilliant sense of humour, one that her students never got to witness."

 

He nods, knowing better than to comment just yet.

 

It's not what she needs.

 

"She was a very kind person, the one you were grateful to call a friend."

 

They continue to sit, as her words begin to slip out - the languished sentiments drifting into the fountain, the sounds fading tiredly into the air.

 

When it's time for things to change, when it's time for the tears to re-emerge and the sobs to revisit, they'll walk back towards their domain and let the pain fall out into the open. And it when it's time for heavy remembrance and sudden, overwhelming sorrow, they'd be ready to see it through - warts and all.

 

But, for now, this is where they are.

 

And this is what they'll do.


	26. March Winds and April Showers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone was concerned, I am in a better place than I was during the last chapter. It's still a stressful and tiring time over here, but it is better. And though I wasn't able to make it, my former voice teacher apparently had a beautiful funeral ceremony.
> 
> Also, because it's really fun amongst other reasons, I'll be switching up tenses again throughout the chapter. And speaking of awesome grammar updates, the nerd in me is incredibly proud to announce that we're going to have official dashes (⎯⎯) instead of hyphens (⎯) from here on out because I finally figured out how to create the equivalent for FFN!
> 
> Now, a certain someone's request is going to be hinted at ⎯⎯ as well as a few others! ⎯⎯ within this chapter. There will also be some quotations and paraphrasing going on! In other words, even though there's a bit angst, there's hope ahead ︎‹3

**Wednesday, the 3rd of April, 2019**

 

For one brief moment, when Elsie Hughes wakes up, she forgets about the fact that they're about to start some of the toughest auditions within the semester. She also almost forgets the fact that a dear friend is no longer on this Earth.

 

But, after a few seconds, the grey skies outside are more than happy to bluntly remind her of both facts. And that, combined with the weariness that always trailed after grief, informs her that this is probably not going to be one of her better days.

 

Yes, well, nothing would be accomplished by wasting time lying about in bed.

 

_._

 

"Did you hear that it's supposed to storm sometime this week?" Sybil is far too chipper about that fact, in Mary's most humble opinion.

 

"Certainly looks like it," Edith comments ⎯⎯ her eyes glancing at the looming clouds before them.

 

There's almost a resounding rumble from the sky ⎯⎯ as though Edith's words are cueing up the storm's climax as they speak.

 

However, that it is not meant to be.

 

Rather, this storm looks like it's going to brew for a little while longer.

 

_._

 

Charles had noticed her arrival the second her worn out footsteps treaded into the hallway outside 402. It had been the same drained pace, that somber  _adagietto_  that spoke of unending burdens to carry masked by professionalism.

 

He knew that she would say nothing of this today, understood that by asking her to let go this time would only result in reactions he didn't want. Elsie had not withdrawn into herself after that moment by the fountain or the ones that followed. But there was only so much of this struggle that she was willing to share.

 

She was a proud woman and someone whose pride he could respect. He just wished that pride didn't come with such a strong will to carry her burdens alone.

 

But that's what the case was, and that's what it would continue to be. Perhaps in another life, things would be different. Perhaps, had this grief occurred further along their relationship, he could do more to be there for her. But, with the way their life together stood, there was only one he could do:

 

Do his bit to lighten her load a little, and help whenever he could.

 

And if that couldn't happen, hope that the day passes by quickly.

 

_._

 

"So," Their occasional lunch together had been put on hold with all the soloists in action, but now Daisy could visit her favourite teacher again for a quick chat in between classes. "How's all that finale solo working out? Have you auditioned yet?"

 

"I don't know if I should," The second soprano honestly replied ⎯⎯ having been thinking it over for the past few days. "Auditions are open to all the choirs."

 

"I know," Beryl dryly commented, having been heard this detail at least twelve times this week. "And, why exactly should that stop you?"

 

Daisy gave a start, having not been expecting that.

 

"Well," She timidly began.

 

Beryl gave her a look.

 

"Well," Daisy restarted, trying to come up with reasons.

 

Beryl just continued to give her that arch, knowing look.

 

_That's what I thought_ , was the unspoken sentiment.

 

_._

 

The students understand.

 

They don't hear the news outright, they never officially find out why there is a sense of pain enveloping the second fourth floor this week. They are a bit too preoccupied with their own dramas to see every detail, too busy with navigating their own stories to read the one unfolding before them.

 

But they do recognize that there is something wrong ⎯⎯ even if they cannot fully comprehend it. They can grasp hints of the darkness that's been dripping into the room for the past week, they can sense the sorrow that slips into their teachers' lectures, the foreboding feeling that comes with the knowledge that something is wrong.

 

It's why even though there's still a flood of soloists, the stream of auditions remains respectful. Although there's an incessant pouring of questions, said questions still manage to grasp the concept of courtesy and unusual empathy. Even with an energetic bubbling of ideas to help fundraise, of curiosities for future songs and thoughts for the choirs, it's an energy that kindly tempers itself.

 

Their worlds will keep on spinning even as they notice the inherent stumbles.

 

**Thursday, the 4th of April, 2019**

 

_"March winds and April showers,"_  Elsie softly sings to herself, somewhat admiring the tumultuous grey clouds outside. It isn't the hum of joy or the impulsive happiness that normally with such weather ⎯⎯ that won't come back to her for a little longer still.

 

But, each day the sting of the loss of a friend burns a little less.

 

And, in this moment, she can watch the skies.

 

_"Bring with them, May flowers."_

 

On such a day as the one before her, there's absolutely no reason to take an umbrella ⎯⎯ not if she wants to truly enjoy the storm already being unleashed from the heavens above her.

 

And after the week she'd had, avoiding the invigorating weather outside is one the last things she wants to do.

 

Of course, for Charles' sake, she still grabs an umbrella ⎯⎯ already imagining his scandalized lectures on the matter if she were to do otherwise. But she only intends to use it if the weather proves to be severe enough to warrant it.

 

Which, with her as a judge, has as much chance of happening as Mrs. Crawley does frolicking through a meadow.

 

A soft snort of disbelief sounds at the mental image, a faint trace of humour dissolving into her solemn countenance.

 

Her grief is by no means gone. But it is lessening.

 

_._

 

Charles had woken up to a sharp clap of thunder, the vicious sound of merciless rain, and the sudden feeling that Elsie was going to willingly plunge into these horrifyingly watery depths with unadulterated delight.

 

And the worse part?

 

He could and would happily join her in such matters.

 

Having had the pleasure of learning more about why she loves such occurrences ⎯⎯ the freedom she feels, the exhilaration that comes from the experience ⎯⎯ he could no longer say he doesn't care for these watery incidences. In fact, the more he spent with her in this weather, the more pleasure he found himself receiving.

 

Though, why that was the case, he hardly knew.

 

_._

 

Beryl rolls out of bed at the booming cacophony outside that has to be the thunderstorm of the month. She takes one look at the monstrosity brewing in the skies and knows already that texting Elsie to take an umbrella with her is an exercise in futility.

 

"If she doesn't catch a flu or cold again I'm a piccolo player," The woman lowly grumbles to herself, mentally noting to pick up some chicken soup for when her frustratingly obstinate friend gets herself sick again.

 

Though, knowing what has transpired this week, her anger softens a little. She can't say she's happy with the situation, because she's not thrilled with the idea of Elsie catching some horrible illness.

 

But, maybe this storm is just what her friend needs.

 

_._

 

When they finally meet on the pavement, the wind practically flings him into her. How the wind manages not to knock her over in the process, they'll never know. The fact that its powerful whips only seemed to brush lovingly against her ⎯⎯ instead of giving the harsh strikes he'd been receiving ⎯⎯ only informs Charles that he will probably never be suited for such weather, unlike the woman before him.

 

Nevertheless, when said woman offers her arm to link with his ⎯⎯ "I really don't think holding my hand will be enough to steady you, not this time, Mr. Carson!" ⎯⎯ he cannot help but draw the line.

 

"Did you not hear about Miss Walker or Mr. Wright and the  _broom closet_ , Mrs. Hughes? I must say, I hardly think this is the time for-"

 

This is, of course, when he nearly slips off the pavement and into the street, giving her further reason to grab onto and cling to his arm.

 

"How is this improper, Mr. Carson?" She almost has to shout, trying her best to contain her tickled glee. Yes, it's windy as hell and they'll probably be terribly sick by this time tomorrow, but she feels more alive than she has in days and the fact that he's willingly sticking by her side makes all this even more exhilarating. "I'm only making sure you don't end up toppling into the street!"

 

He grips her arm throughout this terribly rhetorical question, dramatically protesting the matter even as his eyes glow with delight. But, he's far too ecstatic about the fact that humour is finally slinking back into her life to care.

 

_._

 

"I can't believe the storm's still going," Daisy muttered in amazement, having been eyeing the weather in every class today.

 

"Believe it," Anna dryly remarked, having refrained from going outside with John because of it. "My weather app says there'll be flooding on and off all day."

 

"You don't think the school will be flooded, do you?"

 

"That's highly unlikely, Daisy," Edith reassured her. "My sisters and I have visited Downton in all sorts of weather, and the academy has always held up."

 

Of course, the middle Crawley sister wasn't going to mention that there was a very high chance of the power going out at some point and that  _that_  has happened twice in the last decade. Mentioning that would only serve to worry Daisy even more ⎯⎯ something that was quite a feat in and of itself.

 

"If you say so," The younger singer meekly muttered, not really sure if she believed her older classmate.

 

No matter; whether she believed Edith or not, that storm would continue to rage on.

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Hughes?"

 

For once, as the soprano quietly observed, Mr. Carson did not look displeased with the interruption.

 

"Yes, Sybil?"

 

She smiled briefly at her teacher's kind tone, also observing that this was the first time it didn't sound drained this week.

 

"I was just wanted to check: when are the solo auditions ending?"

 

The teachers shared a look, a voiceless conversation occurring in seconds.

 

"Due to the fact that it is open to all choirs, auditions will end this next Wednesday with the announcement following that Friday." Mrs. Hughes warmly informed her, "Did you have any other questions?"

 

"None right now, thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

 

And with that, Sybil began to take her leave.

 

But not before she catch one whiff of the conversation she'd inadvertently interrupted.

 

"Only, and I do mean only, if the rain lets up will I be interested in taking lunch outside in the courtyard today, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"But, Mr. Carson,"

 

Sybil smiled to herself as the door fully closed, tickled by the conversation and finding herself hoping that her teachers got a chance to go outside ⎯⎯ if only for Mrs. Hughes's sake.

 

_._

 

With rehearsals and auditions now winding down for the day, it was time for their conversations to revisit a topic they'd brushed over several times already in the last few hours.

 

"Elsie, do you not think it would be wiser to wait at least for the storm to ease up before attempting to traverse back home?" Earlier, it had been endearing to watch her gaze longingly at the sky and crack jokes over the blustering wind. Now, when it was clear that this was not the average April shower, her ongoing fondness for the weather only caused him to feel concerned.

 

"Charles, kindly remember where I am from."

 

Scotland, after all, was not known for its endless sunshine.

 

"Even so," However, he didn't really have an argument, not one that was sufficient enough to have her stay in 403. Though he was still determined to try. "You might catch a cold."

 

"Mr. Carson," She needed to remind him that, though she did carry a fondness and love for him, she was an adult capable of making her own decisions. Bringing back "Mr. Carson" instead of "Charles" could possibly help with that.

 

"Yes, Elsie?" It seemed not, if he was now intentionally ignoring her formal tone.

 

"While I appreciate your concern, I must also ask you to respect my decisions."

 

_Stubborn woman_ , the man couldn't help but think to himself ⎯⎯ wanting to respect her decisions but also wanting to avoid her getting into trouble. And quite honestly, with death having graced their doorstep this last week, he didn't want anything to happen to her. More than once this week had he woken up to the nightmare of finding out  _Elsie_ had had cancer instead of her friend ⎯⎯ something that he never  _ever_ wanted to experience.

 

So, let's just say that he'd take nightmares of the stage getting destroyed over  _that_ ordeal any day.

 

"While I am more than happy to do as such, Elsie," He paused, mentally batting away the image ⎯⎯ the numbing concept ⎯⎯ of her falling deathly ill. "I don't want any harm coming to you."

 

Elsie refrained from scoffing at this, if only because she did know that he had a point. As much as she loved great thunderstorms, there was a little danger to traveling through them ⎯⎯ and more so when they were this tempestuous. And, with the loss they'd just experienced, it did make sense that he'd unusually protective about this. She just couldn't really bring herself to care about the risk, not when being outside today had been one of the few moments within this last week that she'd felt  _alive._

 

Though, at the sight of his eyebrows furrowing in worry as his eyes carried an alarmed air, she knew better than to say as such.

 

"Alright," The woman eventually began to concede, humorlessly smiling at her companion. "I'll wait until there's a lull in the rain."

 

The fact that he'd dared to place a hand on her arm ⎯⎯ when the  _a cappella_ rehearsal had only been over for twenty minutes and a student could still walk back in ⎯⎯ was rather telling of just how relieved he was.

 

"Thank you."

 

_._

 

"Do you suppose they made it out alright?" Sheltered in a little cafe in the middle of town ⎯⎯ both having managed to cross paths on the way home ⎯⎯ Albert Mason met Beryl's eyes as he thought over her question. He then glanced at the howling sky, observing it for what it was before looking back at his companion.

 

"What I think," He began, relieved that William and Daisy were most likely already both back in their respective homes. "Is that they'll be fine."

 

She nodded, though her eyes still peered up at the harsh clouds outside ⎯⎯ unable to let her trepidation go.

 

"I'm sure you're right."

 

Beryl wouldn't text just yet.

 

Nevertheless, if she didn't get any sort of news soon, there'd be no holding her back.

 

_._

 

With a storm as incessant as the one surrounding them, it felt as though they were being told to firmly stay put.

 

Or, at least, that's how Charles was choosing to see it.

 

"I can't believe it hasn't ended," The man remarked, now quite relieved that Elsie had not attempted to trek back home. The weather had only gotten worse in the time they'd spent waiting ⎯⎯ judging by the increased gales of wind and unending rain that slammed into the school. "You wouldn't happen to know the time?"

 

He could have checked himself, but he'd honestly not felt like it. Either way, his colleague and companion was already glancing at the lone clock in the room, quickly scanning it and finding herself a little astonished.

 

"It's nearly six o'clock-"

 

"Did you say six o'clock, Mrs. Hughes?" Surprise had brought him back to his old habits, even though all students and staff were undoubtedly long gone.

 

"Do I detect horror in that statement, Mr. Carson?" But, before he could defend his tone and his concern, they were cut off by the power deciding to go out in that very moment.

 

"Now I'm definitely detecting horror." She muttered to herself as he hastily jumped to his feet, a splutter having long since formed.

 

"We rarely lose power at Downton, Mrs. Hughes, forgive me for trying to investigate the matter!"

 

"Mr. Carson," But, he was already walking out of the room, trying to determine if only their classrooms had lost power. Except, it was less like determination and more like panic. "Mr. Carson,"

 

There was no response; he was honestly far too spooked to do anything other than investigate.

 

"Charles!" This got him to turn slightly, but did nothing for his nerves. "It's perfectly alright! Please, calm down!"

 

The man paused in his actions, looking back at her briefly with a face that belied his following statement:

 

"Elsie, I  _am_ calm."

 

_And I'm a giraffe,_  came the unspoken quip that she wouldn't dare to voice. Not when there were other, far more insightful and honestly clever retorts to make.

 

"Are you now? And your speeding to the third floor is just for pure exercise then?" Truly, she'd never seen him like this before ⎯⎯ scurrying off as though the building were about to explode. And if she hadn't had what has been a  _very_ trying week, she'd almost find it adorable. As it was, she was struggling to appreciate the overt panic.

 

"Mrs. Hughes, I am merely investigating the situation at hand."

 

"I see." Well, if that's what he needed to tell himself, that that was what he needed to tell himself.

 

But, let it be known that Elsie didn't believe it for a second.

 

_._

 

"Are you sure I shouldn't just call them?"

 

"Beryl," Albert appreciated her level of concern for her friends, truly. However, the individuals in question were both grown adults with lives of their own who were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. "I'm sure they're both safe and sound, wherever they are."

 

"I don't think you understand Elsie's love for a 'good storm'.'

 

_Or,_  Beryl continued to ponder ⎯⎯ biting her lip in a manner reminiscent of her friend ⎯⎯  _Mr. Carson's love for Elsie._

 

_._

 

The pair made it to the third floor only to discover, much to nobody's surprise, all of these lights were out. Just like the hallway of the second fourth floor. And the practice rooms on the second fourth floor. And 402 and 403, as well as the second floor, and the entire first floor ⎯⎯ which did include the main office area.

 

"Mr. Carson, the rest of the building has clearly lost power. Now, will you please calm down?"

 

"Mrs. Hughes, we don't know if the rest of the building has lost power. We haven't checked the basement or the-"

 

"Mr. Carson, if you continue to 'remain calm' in such a manner, I'm going to ignore your earlier request and walk home right now."

 

"You wouldn't dare."

 

She huffed, irritated that he was so sure of this and frustrated that he could call her bluff. She might've once, maybe seven or five months ago. But with his anxiety and her weariness she just wasn't up for the task.

 

"Not if you'd be left behind, no, I wouldn't. And certainly not when you're so 'calm'."

 

But apparently, Charles hadn't been so sure she'd been bluffing, judging from the relief his eyes were now showing.

 

"Thank you, Mrs.-" Titles and propriety were not right in a situation like this and even he could start to admit that. "Thank you, Elsie."

 

She smiled, a bit of her own tension fading at the refreshing sound of her name, as he continued to speak.

 

"That means more to me than I can say."

 

Elsie smiled again, this time a bit more warmly. She did recognize that, much as she wanted to glare at him for freaking out on her, he was only human. And that, even though she was only human as well, it didn't mean she needed to snap back for that matter.

 

"You're quite welcome, Charles." And as much as she wanted to tease him or bask in finally calming him down a bit, it was not the time. They needed to go to a territory of soothing topics and gentle candidness, not harsh rebukes or strained patience. "Now, shall we continue to investigate the building? See if we can turn on the emergency power?"

 

"I thought you'd never ask."

 

_._

 

"Dad? Mrs. Patmore?"

 

Rarely did William ever see anyone accompany his father home, let alone a drenched Beryl Patmore.

 

"William," Albert began, having been trying to figure out a way of explaining her unexpected presence for most of the journey back home. When they concluded the rain was determined not to let up, it had been decided that they needed to find a better shelter than the cafe. And seeing as how Albert lived closer to the cafe than Beryl ⎯⎯ as well as the fact that they were both concerned about William ⎯⎯ it had been decided she would take shelter at his place until the storm ended.

 

"Mrs. Patmore?"

 

Neither Beryl nor Albert had been expecting Daisy to be there.

 

"Dad," William repeated, a little sheepishly this time. "Daisy lives too far for me to feel comfortable letting her walk home in this weather."

 

Beryl chuckled at this, amused by the faint blush both father and son were now sporting. Though they may have had different reasons behind their decisions, it seemed they both had the same idea.

 

_._

 

Upon recognizing the whole building had indeed lost power, it also soon became apparent that the storm was not going to cease anytime. The worst part was, for whatever reason, the emergency power was refusing to cooperate. Why that was, neither of them was for certain ⎯⎯ they were choir teachers at the end of the day, not engineers. Either way, retreating back to 402 seemed the most acceptable response, seeing as how it hardly mattered where they stayed if the whole building was out of power.

 

"When's the last time Downton had a storm like this, Charles?" Curiosity fueled this question. That, and the fact that talking about Downton almost always calmed the man down.

 

"I don't remember ever witnessing such a storm whilst at Downton, Elsie." She nodded, listening to never-ending rivulets of water run down the sides of the building, the soothing pit-patter accompanying the occasional crackles of thunder in the distance.

 

"Fair enough."

 

Elsie paused another moment before deciding to voice her current thought. It had been one that came to mind long before they confirmed the building was indeed out of power. And, it was one that he hopefully could agree to with little complaint.

 

"Mr. Carson, is there any sort of 'Green Room' in this building? You know, a break room of sorts for staff or students?" He turned at her, not understanding why she'd be pondering such a question.

 

"Well, there is a break room for administrators. Why?"

 

She nodded, a smile threatening to peek through her serious countenance.

 

"And where's this break room for administrators?"

 

He gave a little huff at this, absolutely aware that she never answered his question.

 

"I do believe I asked my question first, Mrs. Hughes." She held her breath a moment, re-summoning her patience. While it was true he asked first, it was also a childish way of repeating his question.

 

"Mr. Carson, it's past eight o'clock and the rain hasn't let up. Even I can agree by this point that it's better to spend the night here instead of braving the weather."

 

"'Spend the night here'?" It was not horror that colored his voice now; rather, it was horror at such an indecorous suggestion. Not that he was against the idea of spending the night with  _her_ per se. It was just that, what with the scandal of Miss Walker and Mr. Wright as well as the chaotic week they'd finished experiencing, he couldn't help but feel that they were treading on incredibly thin ice.

 

"To rephrase what you so eloquently mentioned earlier, it's too dangerous to go out now." She kept her explanation simple, so as to give him not possible loopholes or ways of getting out of the matter. Simply put, Elsie Hughes was worn out. And, though her mind was not currently occupied by any of the typical thoughts as of late ⎯⎯ Liz's death, figuring out a soloist if not soloists for "You Are The Music", finishing the fundraiser for the choirs, handling two jobs instead of the one thanks to Mrs. Butte, etc. ⎯⎯ that didn't mean she had enough energy or motivation to walk home in such weather.

 

Or, rather, she personally didn't mind the walk. It was  _his_  safety and well-being that concerned her.

 

"But, 'spend the night here'?"

 

Had the man been a bit more at ease with the situation, he might've understood her reasoning immediately. But he had spent the last week attempting to help the lighten her load to no real avail, come to terms once again with the fact that life was not in fact permanent, sort through the additional burdens that gripped a choir director in the middle of a semester, as well as grapple with his feelings about certain matters involving broom closets and the woman before him ⎯⎯ feelings he'd never  _ever_ anticipated having as a staff member of Downton Academy.

 

"Is there an echo in here, Charles?" It wasn't so much humour as it was a tired attempted jest.

 

"Elsie, you know very well that there isn't an echo." Attempts at humour or not, he was not in the mood for her sarcasm.

 

"There isn't? How strange. It was almost as though I could hear your voice repeat the same phrase over and over again…" Once he realized she was now slipping back into a more purposeful tease, he couldn't help but feel a little of this week's weight slip off his shoulders. Exhaustion or not, hearing her joke again made everything a little less heavy. Which, in turn, gave him reason to genuinely consider her suggestion as well as return proverbial fire.

 

"Very funny,  _Mrs. Hughes._ " She chuckled quietly, the sound as beautiful to him as an artfully sung high B flat.

 

"Why, thank you,  _Mr. Carson._ " How he'd missed her rolling of "R" ⎯⎯ the soft inkling of legato bringing back a little more life into her. "Now, where is this break-room you've spoken of?" Ah, yes. The improper conundrum he should not be contemplating.

 

See, spending the night with Elsie was an exciting ⎯⎯ or, rather, terrifying and tantalizing ⎯⎯ thing in itself.

 

Spending the night with Elsie whilst inside the  _school_  was entirely another matter.

 

"Elsie, I'm not sure it's appropriate for us to inhabit that break room at this time ⎯⎯ even in such circumstances."

 

She arched an eyebrow at this, pleased that he hadn't gone back to "Mrs. Hughes" but slightly vexed that they had to have this little battle over something that was not nearly as risqué as he was making it out to seem.

 

"Would you rather us 'inhabit' the floor of 402 and wait for the students to find us in the morning?"

 

The result was instantaneous:

 

"The break room is right this way." And off they went, heading out of the door of 402 and making their way down the stairs. But she could sense his hesitation even as they descended the steps and knew that she had to illustrate this was for the best.

 

"Perhaps we shouldn't worry about finding the break room, Charles. I'm sure Beryl wouldn't mind if we broke into 444 and 'inhabited' the floor of her office."

 

That outright tease was something that might've incurred a lecture from anyone else. With her, it received rather a different reaction.

 

"Elsie, must you continue to force such jokes on me?"

 

However, his beam belied the acerbic question, causing her to grin in response ⎯⎯ the pressure finally easing up on the both of them.

 

"Charles, must you continue in delaying our arrival to this break room you speak of?"

 

_._

 

"Daisy, William, you didn't happen to have seen Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes after school ended today, did you?"

 

"Oh, don't get them dragged into this, Mrs. Patmore." It was their agreement that, at least for now, they were to be formal friends in front of others. "And, before you ask, you're both more than welcome to spend the night here ⎯⎯ we've certainly got the space for it."

 

"It was just a question, Mr. Mason." Beryl defended herself, oblivious to William and Daisy's shared look at this. "And, while we appreciate the offer⎯⎯"

 

"We're more than happy to accept." Daisy interjected, playing a risky move that she hoped would pay off. Not only did the weather really seem too dangerous to risk being out so late at night, she kind of enjoyed the unorthodox set-up of the evening.

 

"And, to answer your question, no, we didn't see Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore." William supplied, causing his father to sigh a bit. That answer wasn't going to help calm the woman down.

 

"I see." She turned to the man, hands firmly balled up and resting on her hips. "Now can I call them?"

 

_._

 

They eventually made it to a room tucked away on the first floor near the main offices.

 

"Do you think it's locked? The lights look to be off. We might have to break in."

 

"Very funny, Elsie." But, he was in a much better mood than when the power had first gone out. For even though their eyes had long since adjusted to the lack of lighting, she was still staying far closer to his side than normal ⎯⎯ something that pleased him to no end. And since they hardly had a moment to enjoy whatever their relationship was becoming ⎯⎯ something else that he wanted to address in light of everything ⎯⎯ it was certainly nice to be spending this time together.

 

Even if he did want the lights back on.

 

And the opportunity to go back to his own bed.

 

_._

 

"How about I call them if they haven't responded by nine o'clock?"

 

"Nine o'clock in the morning? That sounds like a grand idea!"

 

_._

 

"Charles," She couldn't help but ask ⎯⎯ feeling more than a little frustrated. "You mean to tell me that you've had a key to the break room this entire time?"

 

"Elsie," He understood some of where she was coming from, but he couldn't help it. "When you have worked at Downton for as long as I, there are certain privileges that you will get to enjoy. And with those privileges come a certain level of trust you must endeavour never to break."

 

"Oh, really? Do tell."

 

The man shook his head, focusing on opening the door in lieu of explaining. Besides, he was distracted by another thought now coming to mind.

 

"There's just one problem with the break room, if I remember it correctly."

 

"What's that, Charles?" She saw through his tactics of delay immediately, but chose to humor him. After all, he had genuinely calmed down within the last hour or so. And there was no need to test or push that tranquility, not when it took such an effort to bring it about in the first place.

 

The man flicked on the light with more than a trace of uneasiness, unwilling to reveal the issue at hand.

 

"I'm afraid there's only one sofa."

 

Elsie refrained from pretending to gasp in horror at the thought, though it did bring a slight flushed quality to her cheeks. While they had shared a few kisses, and they'd even enjoyed a night on another sofa, those kisses had been mostly chaste. And that night on the sofa had mostly been due to illness.

 

"I see."

 

"Naturally, I will be taking the floor."

 

"You will do no such thing." She took a step towards the sofa, determined to be as graceful in this situation as she could be. "There's more than enough space for the both of us on the sofa, Charles"

 

He froze like a deer in headlights at the suggestion, looking at the furniture with far more than just one question.

 

"I'm not so certain about that," He nervously confessed, currently remembering all of the days he'd conversed with the administrators on that sofa. Those recollections stopped him from any further action, blatantly reminding him of the trust he'd just spoken of. If any of those administrators were to find out that he'd willingly slept on their sofa, he did not know just how severe their inevitable reproach would be.

 

"Mr. Carson," Elsie was nearing the end of her patience ⎯⎯ hence, the formal tone. "If I'm not mistaken, we spent an entire evening on a couch together in what some would deem were far more scandalous circumstances."

 

"That was a different circumstance, Mrs. Hughes"  _Elsie Hughes, do_ _not roll your eyes at this daft man._  "You had taken illness. Besides,"

 

Charles glanced around the room before quietly revealing the true issue:

 

"This is the administrators' sanctuary, not Mrs. Patmore's couch."

 

She couldn't help but feel her patience disappear at the whisper. For her, this was a room she could finally fall asleep in, a spot she could collapse in without further thought. Just because some snobby individuals and Isobel actually sat here didn't mean she couldn't take a respite.

 

"Please, just sit down, Mr. Carson. There really isn't another suitable alternative."

 

She herself was the first to sink into the cushiony depths, happily releasing a breath at the comfort the sofa immediately provided. When it became obvious that she was not to be immediately joined, Elsie shot him a look ⎯⎯ informing the man of her opinion on the matter.

 

As though Violet Crawley would come charging into the room with an acerbic lecture about staff decorum if he followed Elsie's lead, Charles eyed the sofa with clear hesitation.

 

But, eventually, whether it was his own weariness or her request, the man acquiesced and slowly began to lower himself onto the sofa.

 

"There, now. That's nice isn't it?" Her eyes were closed already as she spoke, her mind already drifting off to sleep. And, she would've been asleep in a minute, too. Had she had her way, she'd already be dozing off in peaceful rest.

 

There was just a slight problem.

 

Even though Charles had decided to sit down, he was literally on the edge of the sofa and absolutely radiating tension the further their sitting down continued. She thought that, seeing as how they'd been much closer before in the past, this proximity would be no issue once he was finally sat down.

 

Well, it looked like that was not going to be reality.

 

"Charles," Elsie really didn't have any more patience left. "If you would be so kind as to take up some space on this sofa, I think I'd finally be able to fall asleep."

 

In the silence, she could hear his bewilderment at the suggestion.

 

"But-"

 

The woman waited a moment, deeply breathing and out in a few times to distract herself as she waited for a response.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

She was seconds away from calling it a day when he finally spoke.

 

"It's just, we've never been in such close proximity. Not like this."

 

Elsie attempted a worn-out smile at this, her eyes opening at the statement. Illness was a different scenario in his mind, according to his statement, as well as the kisses they'd been sharing for quite some time now.

 

"I do hope my close proximity is not that terrifying," The woman playfully remarked, a teasing smile on her face even as her heart sank a little at the thought. Her eyes closed again, unable to stay open now that she'd finally given into the cushiony depths.

 

And, even though he was feeling considerably calmer, Charles had been pushed far out of his comfort zone this week for such self-deprecating humor ⎯⎯ lighthearted as was its intention. Either way, he's quite unable to see it as the joke it's meant to be.

 

Nor does he particularly want to.

 

"Elsie, please refrain from that sort of humor when it comes the matter of your close proximity. It's not accurate and it's certainly not funny."

 

Her eyes open in confusion, having not realized the impact her words would have.

 

"My apologies, Charles." They're back to a more awkward air, one that was more fitting for the first week of the previous semester. With it a silence descended upon them ⎯⎯ a stifling one that's not nearly as lulling or sweet as it could be.

 

And for a few moments, that seemed to be all there was to the matter.

 

At least, until it finally felt like he'd had the right words with which to speak.

 

"I don't like it when you express such an opinion, Elsie." It was quiet, almost too quiet for her to catch. "It certainly doesn't reflect reality, and it only serves to reinforce a false belief about yourself."

 

She slowly turns towards him, taken aback by this honesty.

 

"You are a strong woman, a brilliant  _and_ beautiful woman, and I do recognize that. I recognize it to the point where I want to go about this properly. I don't want grief or a moment of weakness to be our motivations for our actions. Nor do I want to rush through building a foundation together."

 

She can't help the fact that her eyes are misting over at his words: this is too touching for anything else, even for someone who prides herself on maintaining a good control over her emotions.

 

"So," The words beg to be asked and she concedes without question. "What do you want, Charles?"

 

She knows what she personally wants, knows what she's been craving to experience for a fair amount of time now.

 

She can only hope he's thinking along a similar wave of thought.

 

Charles looks at her in silence, a variety of emotions swirling in his demeanour. It were as though each emotion were a chord of sound, a grounding combination of notes that tell her the only answer long before he speaks.

 

"I want you."

 

The chords tremble in their power, before solidifying within their strength.

 

"I want to court you, I want to continue working by your side, and," He paused only for a few seconds, knowing that he had to be fully honest or this would never work. "And I want to eventually have the privilege, the honor, of calling you my wife."

 

It is her turn to freeze, to recognize the significant decision before her. To understand that ⎯⎯

 

"Well?"

 

She hardly needs his prompting or the internal monologue, her own decision long since having been made. It was sparked by moments in the music library, cultivated by the competitions and the fundraising as well as the realization she'd stay with him even if she didn't have her job here. And it was solidified by the realization that the students are wonderful but it is her colleague that truly makes Downton Academy special ⎯⎯ special to the point where this is where she wanted to be, this is who she wanted to be with, for as long as she could.

 

"Yes."

 

For one second he fears that this, like so many of his other dreams of the past semester, will turn into a nightmare. That this is not reality and that this is going to twist into a horrid ending that he will always regret.

 

But, then she's getting a phone call and it's so stupidly fitting for this conversation to be interrupted that he  _knows_  this is reality.

 

"Beryl?" Irritation keeps Elsie's tone terse. "Yes, I'm okay. And, yes, Mr. Carson is okay, too."

 

He personally wants to take the phone, hang up the call, and toss both their cellular devices out the room so that there are no further interruptions. It's beyond rude of him to do, to presume that he even had the right to take those actions.

 

Luckily, it looks like Elsie's having similar thoughts.

 

"Yes, well, goodnight, Beryl!"

 

And with more sharpness than necessary, she quickly hangs up the call.

 

"Don't ask." Is her command to him, as she's not in the mood to explain why her beloved friend was calling.

 

"I hadn't the slightest intention." He honestly remarks, garnering a snort in response. "Though I do have a question."

 

"What is it?"

 

He has more than one question, to be frank. But, in this moment, he can only ask one in particular.

 

"You do realize you'd be stuck with quite the curmudgeon if we were to make a go of it," He can't help but think of his snappishness earlier, his occasional outbursts throughout the semester, his blustering behavior when she arrived all those months ago, as well as his initial opposition to the music she loved most. It's not something he'd wish upon anyone, let alone the woman before him. "And it'd be far harder to change your life entirely if you were stuck with me."

 

Elsie raises an eyebrow, wanting to dismiss his concern. In her gut, she knows that this is the right thing to do and that there isn't really a question of whether or not she wants to be stuck with him. But, the worry contorting his facial features, the fear constricting his breath, is enough to have the woman realize how important it is to officially acknowledge this concern.

 

She reaches for his hand in the darkness, her next words long since having formed themselves.

 

"Charles, we all carry warts we never want to see. But, if you're asking me if I'm sure about whether or not I want you ⎯⎯ to court you, to love you and to, one day, marry you," Elsie takes her time to make it quite clear that she means every word, deliberately slowing her personal cadence down. "I have never been so sure of anything."

 

The words firmly take to the air, their promise of permanence ringing through the space.

 

"Well, then," He's breathless with shock, the fervour of her sentiments made quite clear. His brain practically stops functioning at such consent. His body stills as his thoughts try desperately to catch up to the present moment. But, once he's able to wrap his mind around what Elsie was offering, he recognizes that she's still waiting for a response.

 

That her hand is still there for him to take ⎯⎯ if he truly wants to.

 

Yes, they have shared kisses. And it is also true that they have indeed already spent time together. But, those had been a kisses of solace and innocent hope, beautiful breaths of reassurance that everything would be alright, tender whispers of possibility. And those times spent together had been spurred on by ice cream, indulgences and illness ⎯⎯ hardly broaching any true form of impropriety or courtship for that matter.

 

This is a choice. An opportunity to prove that neither grief nor reckless abandon would dictate his actions in this regard. A chance to show that, even with his initial hesitation, he wants their relationship to progress.

 

"Well," He repeats, unable to help himself. The desire to properly kiss her right now is almost too strong for him to handle, and he can't help but want to use words to temper the overwhelming sensation.

 

"Charles," She looks as though she wants to say more, but chooses not to. Instead, time slows to  _andantino_ as she gently leans towards him ⎯⎯ starting to close the space. In response, he finds himself reaching out his other hand to tenderly caress her cheek. She tilts her head at this movement, easily turning towards him as their hearts begin to speed up with hope.

 

For the first time in what felt like years, their lips once more meet with unadulterated ecstasy. Her eyes softly closes in bliss as her mouth leans into his, thoroughly enjoying this wonderful connection that has never felt quite as powerful. A connection that has been waiting to be made for quite some time. A connection they couldn't wait to explore as long as they possibly could, together.

 

No thoughts of regret or propriety, no thoughts at all really, guide their actions in this.

 

For once, it is a moment of pure feeling.

 

And when they break for air, it is clear that everything is as it should be.

 

They properly embrace this next time, relishing the sensation of finally being able to hold one another for pure pleasure. Another kiss soon occurs, the soothing action spurred on by the realization that they can enjoy this. Soon, another follows this as the couple strives to prove that this is their beautiful reality.

 

Now, let it be known that ⎯⎯ even in the midst of such a tender, heavenly expression of their love for one another ⎯⎯ Charles is able to have a little fun. Let it also be said that he can still retain just as much humor as she, if he so desired. And, finally, let it be known that, now that he realizes he can indeed trust the situation, he isn't going to allow anything to stop them from ⎯⎯ what was the phrase she had uttered so long ago?

 

Ah, yes: live a little.

 

Charles starts to demonstrate all of this by being the first to break one of their soon-to-be-many kisses. It's a necessary evil, having to part from her entrancing lips at such a time. So necessary and so evil was it that his eyes glow with mirthful happiness as he begins to teasingly murmur the first of several playful remarks.

 

"I'm afraid I don't see any warts here,  _Mrs._ Hughes. Are you sure they're involved in the matter?"

 

A blush threatens to escape as his low voice, his  _sotto voce_ jest, nuzzles her. That, in combination with the way he's currently uttering her name has her reduced to a practically putty-like existence in this moment.

 

"Charles⎯⎯" Alas, he needs to inspect the area surrounding her mouth a little more thoroughly in order to double check his assessment, "Nor do I detect any over here."

 

He also needs to investigate her cheeks, "I'm afraid I've not found a single one so far, Mrs. Hughes.", go over her forehead at least once, "Are you really quite sure about their existence?" as well as possibly inspect her neck for any such blemishes, "Elsie, I'm afraid you were making an inaccurate assessment of your features earlier."

 

She gives a breathy snicker at the overly grave tone, far too enticed to even attempt to protest his facetious remarks. For what is there to protest ⎯⎯ when she's so happy to be doing this in the first place?

 

"Mr. Carson, if you're going to check for the warts that I carry, I'm afraid you're going to have to be more meticulous than that."

 

"Oh, will I now?"

 

_._

 

After several more investigations, to double-check his initial assessment of her facial features and to make sure that her alleged warts haven't somehow transferred onto his face instead, the pair had properly begun to fall into slumber. Long gone was the fear of the power outage and the unknown. And with it left the insecurities, the dismal thoughts of disappointment and frustration that tended to accompany the darkness.

 

Properly embracing each other once again, seeing as how the sofa was now quite unable to leave room for anything else, the couple drifted into rather pleasant dreams. Dreams involving further investigations in all sorts of situations, as well as other sorts of scenarios….

 

**Friday, the 5th of April, 2019**

 

Charles was back on the stage this time, but he appeared to be alone.

 

Or, at least, it was dark enough in the auditorium that even if someone were in room he wouldn't have a clue.

 

He stood in silence, recognizing this for the nightmare it was meant to be. He stilled himself, waiting for the flooding to start, for the lights and the ceiling to start to fall once more, for the damage to begin. He anxiously waited for disaster to strike if only because it never failed to do so before and he wanted to get it all over with. And, if this evening had somehow been a dream, why wouldn't it now be a nightmare?

 

"Charles?"

 

She was never the one to speak to him before. Not here, not in this disconcerting setting.

 

Though, perhaps her previous inability was the reason why her voice currently sounded unusually dampened.

 

"Elsie?" He's long since recognized that this is a dream. As such, there's no need to resort to last names and titles ⎯⎯ not that he would've after the night they'd had. "Is that you?"

 

"No, it's the Ghost of Christmas Past." She dryly remarked, still coming off as abnormally muffled in the space. For that matter, he couldn't even see her ⎯⎯ as much as he absolutely wanted to. "Who believes that it's a little too dark in here. Is there a reason we're still in the dark, Charles?"

 

He waited another moment for the inevitable, hardly daring to believe that nothing would go wrong, especially now that Elsie was here.

 

"Charles?"

 

The man looked once more around the room, scanning the darkness for any signs of trouble as best as he could. If he couldn't see Elsie, he'd at least try to make he could see the danger when it finally arrived.

 

"Charles, if you don't tell me why we're still in the dark, I'm afraid I'll be forced to kiss you."

 

⎯⎯  _What?_

 

"Elsie, I don't believe I heard that correctly." She laughed a bit at this, the sound just as lovely as her typical voice ⎯⎯ even as the auditorium continued to distort its quality.

 

"I'm fairly certain you did. I'm just as certain that if I turn on the lights ⎯⎯"

 

"Wait a moment, Elsie," If she turned on the lights, he didn't know what would happen next. And, this has been the best version of this recurring nightmare yet. He really didn't need it to go down a darker path once there was a clear illumination of the situation.

 

"Charles," Her voice is now far closer, possibly only centimeters apart from him even though she was still nowhere in sight. "Trust me when I say we need to let a little light in."

 

Well, regardless of what occurred next, at least it would only be a dream. He could wake up at any point, even if he didn't know exactly how to.

 

"Close your eyes, love. They'll need a minute to adjust." Even though she was still out of sight, it was almost as though her hands were gently lifting to help cover his eyes.

 

And, even though he couldn't see those hands, they felt so comforting and so right that he couldn't help but do exactly as she asked: trust her and close his eyes.

 

_._

 

Elsie keeps one hand on his eyes as she flicks on the lamp next to the sofa. Much to her relief, it filled the room with a kind light ⎯⎯ one that's easy on the eyes and informs her that the power's back on. So, either a miracle occurred or an engineer finally made it to the building.

 

"Charles," She whispers once more, noting the clock in the corner read 5 o'clock in the morning. "I'm afraid we will have to get up in a moment."

 

He stirs, mumbling something that she can't quite hear. Either way, it's such an endearing moment to witness that she can't help but let her hand remain where it was ⎯⎯ opting to give him a soft kiss to help wake him up instead of the sudden light.

 

"Elsi- Mrs. Hughes?"

 

Unlike previous moments where he has slipped back into formality, she no longer feels a tinge of frustration or loss at the sound. After the enjoyable evening they spent together, there is no doubt of his love for her. And, for that matter, she's now at a place where she can indeed enjoy that love. The burdens of death still hold her, but now she can once again feel more than only that pain.

 

So, truly, one hundred "Mrs. Hughes"s are indeed worth one "Elsie".

 

"Mr. Carson," Her hand drift from his eyes to his cheeks, caressing them in a manner similar to one he'd demonstrated last night. "Please believe me when I say that I do not want to leave you or this sofa any time soon."

 

"Sofa?" He begins to come back to this world, though his eyes are still shut in bliss.

 

"Please also believe that it is for your sake ⎯⎯ and for the sake of the choirs ⎯⎯ that I do this."

 

Her mouth swiftly meets his once more, putting more urgency into this particular kiss in an effort to quickly wake him up. She knows they only have twenty minutes to leave the building before someone would cross their paths. And, as content as he looks now, she also knows that Charles will not remain in that state for much longer if someone discovers them here.

 

Upon letting her lips part from his once again, she detects an incoherent protest from her love.

 

But, as with so many of their moments, now is not the time.

 

"If we're up and out of the building within the next ten minutes, there'll be more of that I promise." She whispers, purposefully letting her voice take on a breathier quality than normal.

 

He's off the sofa and maneuvering her towards the exit in seconds.

 

_._

 

After walking in the directions of their respective homes, it becomes apparent that he needs to make sure that this isn't all a dream. Not only that, he needs to have proof that he isn't about to be waking up in his bedroom momentarily.

 

That is what prompted him to halt them in their tracks.

 

"Mr. Carson," Her heart isn't really in the protest ⎯⎯ though she is concerned for how he'd feel if someone saw them, stopped in the middle of the pavement in such a disheveled state of dress, at this time in the morning. Not only that, but the fact that there's lagoons strewn across the streets mean that they'll be drenched by the time they're back in their respective homes - something that isn't a particularly pleasant thought right now.

 

"Are you a woman of your word, Elsie Hughes?"

 

It seems rather a serious question to be asking at 5:15 in the morning.

 

"I am indeed, Charles Carson."

 

"Then, surely, you cannot break your promise that 'there'll be more of that'?"

 

She quietly chuckles, flustered and delighted and bursting with joy that he feels he can say such things in a public area like the pavement. And, maybe it's the exhaustion of the semester as a whole, but she finds herself quite willing to carry on with this conversation.

 

"With such sound reasoning, Mr. Carson, I do believe you're quite correct."

 

But, Charles isn't convinced that she was indeed going to stay true to her word.

 

Luckily, Elsie's able to effectively convey her feelings about the matter.

 

Luckier still, it hardly requires her to make any sort of vocalized argument in defense of her honor. Verbal ministrations and concrete actions, on the other hand….

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson," Isobel Crawley had caught him as he was making his way to the stairs ⎯⎯ having re-entered the building only just a few minutes ago. "May I share something fascinating with you?"

 

Charles came to a stop, unsure of where she was leading with this question. With such a tone, there seemed to be a certain motivation behind her inquiry. It seemed innocuous, but there was a quality of mischief that leaked into the words ⎯⎯ one that he didn't necessarily care for.

 

"You may," He began to speak, but she was already cutting him off with her next comment.

 

"Imagine my surprise," Isobel continued to remark towards the poor choir director who was now trapped, "When I discovered that the door to the break room had been left unlocked. Not only that, but the lamp had apparently been left on overnight. And, curiously enough, the room was in such a state of distress that, somehow, even the pillows from the sofa had managed to inhabit the floor."

 

He had to choke back a response at the use of the word 'inhabit', that particular term bringing to mind several moments from the night prior.

 

Isobel wasn't deterred from her interrogation in the slightest.

 

"Of course, seeing as how the lock hadn't been forced and there wouldn't be anything to steal, I can only suspect someone accidentally left it unlocked yesterday." She gave him a knowing look, fully aware of the implications. "You wouldn't happened to have required the break room at any point yesterday? I do remember seeing the lights to 402 had been on even after I was leaving the building. And seeing as how I know of only two persons, myself included, who have a key to the break room, I can't help but wonder who would have had the opportunity and the inclination to occupy the room ⎯⎯ quite possibly overnight for that matter."

 

"I see. Well," He hesitantly started, unsure of what exactly should be said in the first place.

 

As it happened, his luck wouldn't be running out today: he was saved from answering what wasn't really a question by the arrival of one particularly revered saviour.

 

"Isobel," Seeing Violet Crawley on the warpath was almost always as divine as witnessing the Concert Choir do justice to their music. "Would you care to inform me as to why the building apparently lost power yesterday? After all, it was your suggestion..."

 

Unfortunately, Charles really was too busy to stick around and watch the women engage in battle⎯⎯ have a discussion about what he'd normally be quite fascinated by.

 

Though, just as unfortunately, his sudden absence from the conversation only confirmed Isobel's assumptions.

 

_._

 

Upon visiting her friend, it became clear that Beryl knew something was up. It's only the fact that Elsie had answered her phone yesterday, instead of letting it hang up, that the band director changes her original interrogation plan.

 

"What happened?"

 

"I've not a clue as to what you're talking about." Innocence was something Daisy or Edith could pull off, not her best friend.

 

"Very funny, Elsie. Something happened, spill." The choir teacher raised an eyebrow at this, surprisingly not irritated with being told what to do.

 

Though, if Beryl's right, that may have been partially due to Charles's influence.

 

"There's that face again," Beryl declared at once. "The face that says 'I actually enjoyed life for once'."

 

This prompted the very verbal reaction the woman was aiming for:

 

"I'll have you know that I enjoy life on a frequent occasion, Beryl!"

 

"Really?" Elsie's eyes narrowed as she realized where her friend was going with this. "Do tell!"

 

The choir teacher let out a huff, only mildly impressed with this baiting. It only figures that Beryl would be interrogating her on a day when she was sleep-deprived and unable to think of anything other than the cause of her sleep-deprivation⎯⎯

 

"The face makes a reappearance!" Beryl arched an eyebrow. "Now, why do I have the feeling it's being caused by our current choir director?"

 

There really wasn't a need for Elsie to speak of anything.

 

Apparently, her blush told all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe me when I say I'd been trying to figure out a way to weave in these particular scenes for literal months. They all kept teasing me and wanting to be put into the story, but it never seemed right until this chapter.
> 
> Also, for anyone who feels like they've jumped away from grief far too quickly or that they've jumped the gun relationship-wise, I'd normally agree. Except, grief in this case strikes me as something that's in the background and something that can be momentarily forgotten. Furthermore, I also find that grief ⎯⎯ along with fear of the unknown ⎯⎯ can push people to live the life they want to, instead of keeping their dreams to themselves. They suddenly find the motivation to acknowledge and take action on matters normally ignored.
> 
> Therefore, under normal circumstances, I'd agree with anyone who finds this chapter to be a little OOC. However, I feel I've got to say that loss of life is not and should never be a normal circumstance. That it can push people to do things that they normally wouldn't do, that it can drive people to finally move to a certain point.
> 
> On a somewhat similar note, in an effort to work through the grief and everything else going on, I've put together a little one-shot. It's set during the same day they find out the bad news, and it's just a bit of choral angst that felt fitting. I didn't want to interrupt the flow of ISNSIV, especially because it's more of a drabble than anything else. But if there's interest in reading that then I'd be more than happy to separately post the piece, too.
> 
> And, finally, you will be receiving proper details about auditions in the following chapter(s). I only refrained from explicitly detailing them here because I wanted the focus to be more Chelsie-based and less singing-based for this chapter.


	27. Attempted Auditions and Silent Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original General Author's Note: Before anything else, thank you for your patience when it comes to this update. This last month has been one of the most stressful months I have ever experienced, and I'm so very happy to say that the pressure should be lessening now. Which means the updates will be coming back to a weekly routine again and, hopefully, things will get easier!
> 
> Furthermore, I want to thank all the kind words about the romantic development within the previous chapter. I do not normally delve into romance and so to hear from people that it not only was enjoyable but it was also in-character… Let's just say, in the words of this fandom, you could knock me down with a feather.
> 
> Now, we are nearing what will be the final arc/chapters before the concert! We're going to take a slight deviation from romance, but have no fear because it's definitely going to be a part of the story. Finally, I've got to say thank you to Suzie for being the one to inspire this last piece of drama!
> 
> Also, we have a new section marker! If you see this, ~-~ , that means we're going down Memory Lane. I'll try to help cement this by italicizing the full segment, but isn't it cool that this story keeps expanding?

**Monday, the 8th of April, 2019**

  


Charles Carson would never describe himself as afraid or terrified of anything. Nevertheless, while he would never classify himself with such a description, that didn't mean he wasn't determinedly striding through the hallways in an effort to avoid a certain band director. It was nothing truly personal that had him intentionally go out of his way to avoid the woman ⎯⎯ at least, that's what he told himself. Rather, it was the fact that he knew Elsie would not have kept their conversation on the 4th of April away from her dearest friend.

  


And, knowing this, he also knew he could not possibly predict just how the band director would react to this. The only comfort the man had in that realization was recognizing that he hadn't received any hails of irate text messages just yet. Really, he'd hadn't been given any messages in which he was to be reminded that if he dared to break Elsie's heart Beryl would break his everything.

  


The fact that he hadn't received any such messages only reassured him that the woman in question was taking this better than he anticipated.

  


Now, truthfully, even though Elsie had reassured him that Beryl would not have this sort of reaction, he couldn't help but doubt that. After all, Elsie had never had to deal with the woman during a joint band-choir performance.

  


And there's a reason they never put those sorts of shows on these days.

  


"Oh, Mr. Carson!"

  


Cora Crawley was a safe bet for conversation, for he could almost guarantee the administrator had no real clue as to the events transpiring within the choir rooms. Moreover, Beryl wasn't one to converse with the woman lately ⎯⎯ not as far as Charles knew. Therefore, he could interact with Cora for at least a few minutes before making his way safely to the choir rooms.

  


"Yes, Mrs. Crawley?"

  


Turning around to greet his conversational companion for the next five minutes, Charles abruptly stilled ⎯⎯ shocked.

  


"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore was just informing me as to how brilliantly the students performed for both of the choir competitions!" She proudly elaborated, openly smiling at the band director. "And she was explaining that we have to offer our congratulations to both you and Mrs. Hughes for preparing them."

  


"Thank you, Mrs. Crawley,"

  


It was all he could muster.

  


"You're welcome!" She turned back to Beryl, a bemusement grabbing hold of the administrator's demeanour. "I wonder why the girls didn't tell me anything. I mean, I know how they did for their solos and ensembles, but why didn't they mention the scores for the first competition?"

  


"You know how teenagers can be, Mrs. Crawley," The band director dryly remarked. "I don't think it even occurred to them you didn't already know."

  


Cora knowingly chuckled as Charles looked for any opportunity to escape. If the administrator was aware of his immense discomfort, she certainly didn't show it.

  


"Quite right, Mrs. Patmore, as always." This led to more conversation between the two women as the choir director continued to try to figure out how he could extract himself from this conversational nightmare. At the very least, he wanted to scurry off before there could be any chance of a one-to-one conversation with the band director.

  


Alas, an extraction was not meant to be.

  


"Oh, Mr. Carson," His smile strained itself at the overly polite tone of one Beryl Patmore. "I did have a question about an idea for the choirs, if I could just steal you for a second,"

  


"Please, go ahead, Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Carson," Cora gestured before he could say anything, immediately looking back at her office. "I'm afraid I can't really stay for much longer, I'm sure you both understand."

  


"Of course, Mrs. Crawley," He found himself blankly stating, feeling quite defeated. In response, he garnered quite the curious tilt of the head from the woman in question as she left.

  


Well, even if she was intrigued, it was too late for her to find out anything. For within seconds after Cora's exit, Charles found himself being firmly guided up the stairs to the second fourth floor.

  


Clearly, whatever the woman wanted to tell him, it was not to be said in a crowded space.

  


"Can I do something for you, Mrs. Patmore?" The words are awkward, out of place, and not at all what he wants to say. He wants to remind her that she will have to exit this stairwell in order to get to her first class. He simultaneously needs to inquire as to what exactly she thinks she knows. He also has to leave this stifling space and take refuge in 402, because he's not really sure what she wants to say to him but he has a good feeling that it relates to what transpired on 4th of April with Elsie. And while he will never take back his words or his sentiments about  _that_ particular situation, he really does not want to discuss this matter with Beryl ⎯⎯ not yet, at least.

  


They come to a stop on the stairs, though not by his choice. She turns to him and, for the first time in the years they'd been colleagues, Charles cannot get any sort of reading in regards to her emotions. It's not reassuring, this lack of clarity. But what's worse is that she still hasn't said a single word.

  


Fortunately, Beryl Patmore is not one to remain silent for long.

  


Though, for once, she's brief in her regards.

  


"Thank you."

  


She's pulling him into a strong hug ⎯⎯ one that he's never experienced in general, let alone from the woman in question ⎯⎯ and refuses to let him escape her gratitude. And, after a few seconds, he understands all that she's trying to convey: she's grateful he lived a little, she's relieved he didn't run away from the situation, she's bursting with delight he trusts Elsie enough to be honest with both himself and his feelings for her.

  


After a half a minute, he finds himself more flustered than he has been in an incredibly long time. This emotional scene, this is not his cup of tea. And certainly not with a colleague like Mrs. Patmore.

  


Interestingly enough, she looks to be in a similar shape.

  


"Right." Beryl mutters, stopping the hug and quickly giving themselves necessary distance. "We never speak of this again."

  


Charles silently nods, quite content to comply with that command.

  


"But if you dare to break her heart," The rest of the threat is clear, the consequences apparent. She doesn't have to finish her sentence to remind him that a world of pain will seem quite pleasant in comparison to what she'd have in store.

  


"Right."

  


And with another nod, she's disappearing into the third floor ⎯⎯ making her way up to the band room while giving him cause to wonder if he imagined the whole incident.

  


In all honesty, it probably won't be the last time they have some sort of remarks on the situation. But, according to Elsie, it seems Charles wasn't the only one to have lived a little during last week's storm.

  


Though, if he dared to mention that in the band director's presence, he'd be in for a world of pain from  _both_ women.

  


_._

  


" _What_? Are you being serious?"

  


Elsie heard the startled tone of Andy Parker long before she saw his gaping, incredulous jaw.

  


"Why not? Nothing ever happens in first period anyway: no one's awake, not even the teacher." Thomas Barrow's unusually dismissive voice echoed into 403, giving the woman cause to assume what the conversation revolved around.

  


"Thomas, it's just a solo, it's not worth it⎯⎯"

  


Well, now she really had an understanding.

  


"Andy, I think it's actually worth it⎯⎯"

  


But, before this little bickering between friends turned into anything nastier, she needed to break it up and resolve the issue.

  


"Ah, Thomas, there you are," He stiffened at the words, "I do believe you're late."

  


With only seconds to spare, it was no wonder that the baritone hadn't caught on to her plot ⎯⎯ to supply him with an excuse to support his friend in his solo efforts. All things considered, Thomas was not at a level of improvisation in life in which he could instantly understand what his teacher was trying to do.

  


Fortunately, his friend was equally just as lost.

  


"'Late'?" Andy repeated, a puzzled air contorting his features.

  


"Do you not think that reorganizing the music library, even if only for fifteen minutes, requires punctuality?"

  


It only took the student but a heartbeat to understand the opportunity before him.

  


"I'm sorry for the delay, Mrs. Hughes," Now Andy was the only one utterly puzzled, as Thomas was following his teacher towards the music library. "I appreciate your waiting for me."

  


"And I appreciate your sincerity," She was no longer referring to his assistance. "But, I hardly think apologies will help the situation."

  


"Thomas? What brings you here so early?" Ah, yes, it was time for the ultimate test of this little exercise:

  


Mr. Carson's reaction to the situation.

  


"Thomas has volunteered to help me re-organize the music library for the first fifteen minutes of class. As you very well know, we've needed to change parts of the system for some time now."

  


The choir director knew very well that they had had no real conversation about organizing the music library  _ever_ , that she also had no legitimate complaints about his system, and that this quirky situation probably had more to do with the fact that solo auditions would be happening during the first fifteen minutes of class.

  


That and the fact that Andrew was currently staring directly at the ground is what told Mr. Carson that something else was afoot.

  


"Ah, right," Hopeless liar he may be, let it be known that Charles Carson could perform on the spot if need be. "Well, I'm glad Thomas will be able to help us today."

  


Now, it wasn't only the fact that Elsie had a twinkle in her eyes that had him internally beaming. Nor was it the fact that Andrew was now daring to look up at him in shock.

  


It was also the fact, though he would never  _ever_ say this, that Barrow's eyes were practically bulging from disbelief at the sound of his consent.

  


Personally,  _that_  sight amused him more than he'd ever care to admit.

  


_._

  


"Now, would anyone else like to audition ⎯⎯ Ivy?"

  


Daisy looked on as Ivy began to bring herself to her feet, remembering in a flustered manner her own audition after Mrs. Patmore's encouragement.

  


"I'd like to, Mrs. Hughes," The young soprano had stated, almost causing her classmate to roll her eyes. Of course Ivy wanted to audition. And it only figured that she waited for most of the other girls to audition before volunteering.

  


But, here they were and here they were going to be until the audition was over.

  


"Alright," Mrs. Hughes nodded, going over to the piano once more and playing the starting note. Ivy nodded to herself, closing her eyes for a second before beginning.

  


"' _Tis you that are the music,_

_Not your song."_

  


The young woman's sound was breathy, eager to audition but not holding the vocal technique so many other singers contain.

  


" _The song is but a door which,_

_Opening wide,"_

  


Still, her heart was in it. And that's what mattered.

  


Especially when it came to those high notes.

  


" _Let's forth the pent up melody inside."_

  


She didn't quite sail into the higher notes, but Ivy did have gusto, that's for sure.

  


" _Your spirit's harmony,_

_Which clear and strong,_  


_Sings but of you."_

  


And it was probably a sight better than what Daisy did for her own audition...

_**  
** _

_**~-~** _

_**Friday, the 5th of April, 2019** _

_  
_

_It was with more than a hint of trepidation that Daisy rose to her feet. Having already talked to Mrs. Patmore about auditioning, it was clear that she just needed to sing the solo and get the whole thing over with._

  


" _I'd like to audition," She'd spoken, her stomach running rampant with butterflies even as she piped up. Mrs. Hughes had just asked if there were anymore takers for the day, signaling that this was the young woman's last chance to audition for today. "If that's possible, that is, Mrs. Hughes."_

_  
_

_Some of the more insecure girls, the ones who wanted to audition but didn't quite feel up to it, snickered from their seats_ ⎯⎯ _hardly daring to believe that she of all people was willing to audition. And, maybe it'd go badly, but all Daisy could see was Mrs. Patmore sternly looking at her and telling her that she needed to give it a proper go. That she couldn't let this past her by._

  


" _It's quite possible." There was a slight tease to the words, but the older woman was planning to be far more encouraging than anything else and that much was obvious._

_  
_

_Daisy nodded at this, silently giving permission to Mrs. Hughes to play the starting note for the solo._

_  
_

_See, what with the solo being_ a cappella  _one,_ _there wasn't a need to play any piano accompaniment. But Daisy was still ever so grateful to hear her starting pitch because she'd totally lost it in the face of_ _all the nerves she was currently feeling._

  


" _Whenever you're ready," It was with a gentle voice that Mrs. Hughes reminded the young woman that they were all waiting on her to sing the solo._

_  
_

_Which only forced her to quickly jolt into action, hoping for the best as she started off..._

**  
**

_**~-~** _

**Monday, the 8th of April, 2019**

  


It does not surprise the choir teacher to see a certain tenor approach her at the start of the Advanced Mixed class.

  


"Anything I can do to help, William?" What does surprise her is the sudden recognition that, although he was still fairly shy and withdrawn, the young man had grown in confidence over the last few months. His posture was just a bit straighter, his normal demeanor a little taller and more confident than before.

  


"I was just wondering when the choir would be putting on that solo showcase for everyone who competed."

  


Well, she'd not thought about  _that_  for quite some time!

_  
_

_My, my, Elsie,_ Came the bemused thought. Now that the tenor was mentioning it, they had indeed previously mentioned putting on a showcase for the soloists as part of their fundraising. Though, it had honestly been one of the last things on her mind for the last few weeks ⎯⎯ much to her retrospective frustration.

  


"That's an excellent question, William. And, once I work on a few more details with Mr. Carson, I'll be sure to give you an answer."

  


She pitched her voice all the while maintaining the same volume, ensuring that there was enough forward motion to her words that ⎯⎯ even though the choir director was on the other side of the room ⎯⎯ he could still catch her statement. She even discreetly used her peripheral vision to make sure the man had heard at least the part about discussing details, not wanting William to think she wasn't paying attention to him.

  


And people said performing would teach her nothing useful, when some of the best skills she'd picked up were from this profession.

  


Speaking of learning tricks of the trade, "What, exactly, are the details we to be working out, Mrs. Hughes?"

  


After William had gone to his assigned seat, Charles had somehow managed to stealthily make his way across the room. Practically gliding over as he joined her where she stood, the man seemingly materialized out of nowhere ⎯⎯ another parlor trick that came from performing on the stage.

  


"The solo showcase, Mr. Carson, what else?" She acted as though she hadn't just been reminded of the performance in the making.

  


"Didn't we agree that it would be Friday, April 26th, at 7 o'clock in the evening?"

  


She knew they did no such thing. But, she also knew that Charles had the choirs' events calendar memorized to the point where he could recite it in his sleep. Furthermore, she understood he was simply planning the event on the spot, and this was his way of reassuring any eavesdroppers that the solo showcase would indeed be occurring.

  


Truly, she ought to have remembered his impeccable memory. She thought she heard mumbles of that sort when they spent that night together on that sofa⎯⎯

_  
_

_I'll have no more of that, thank you!_

  


"I believe you're right, Mr. Carson." And with that slight inclination of his head, accompanied by a very muted smile, she knew the matter was mostly resolved. The location would still have to be figured out, of course. That, in addition to gathering the soloists and making sure everyone was made aware of the timing.

  


However, once they had set their sights on something like this, there was very little that would stop it from occurring.

  


_._

  


Matthew hadn't really meant to have been "spying" on them, per se. But he did have a question about the solo ⎯⎯ more of a clarification than anything ⎯⎯ and his lunch period was normally a good time to drop by the choir rooms.

  


And, of course, he hadn't witnessed anything improper from the doorway. There was no scandalous action accidentally observed, or risqué comment overheard.

  


Still, there was something different in 402, something that had been lurking in the corners of the classroom during their rehearsal today. And though that something wasn't necessarily bad, it was still something.

  


See, before he had even entered the room, he could tell there was a conversation going on ⎯⎯ something he wouldn't normally be privy to. And, judging from Mrs. Hughes's fixation, it was something important.

  


But, the interesting thing is that, even though he couldn't hear a single word and even though it seemed serious, there was something about her gaze that had him believe this that ⎯⎯ whatever was being discussed ⎯⎯ it was something good.

  


Before he could walk away and wait to ask another day, she caught sight of him outside 402. Without another word, she silently beckoned him into the classroom and stopped whatever discussion was going on.

  


"Yes, Matthew?"

  


Even as he asked his question ⎯⎯ about whether he could shift the solo's key or if he could play with it altogether ⎯⎯ that previous energy from the teachers' earlier conversation still lingered.

  


The tenor found he really didn't mind that.

_._

  


"Students," They'd just finished warming up their voices when Elsie had decided to officially inform the  _a cappella_ bunch that they'd be performing one more piece. "Now that we're really learning our set, there is one last song I'd like to add."

  


Charles stiffened, stopping himself from fully entering 403 at that statement. The door had been opened to keep the room cool, giving him leeway when it came to furtively slipping into the room to watch the rehearsal.

  


Of course, he hadn't been anticipating witnessing her add yet another burden to her already enormous load. In any case, this was Elsie and ⎯⎯ knowing his colleague as he did ⎯⎯ she wasn't the sort of person to let a burden stop her from performing her job.

  


"It is an Irish folk song called 'Dúlamán'," Immediately, the choir director had to quell the urge to glare at Tom Branson ⎯⎯ who was undoubtedly the cause of this. "There is a solo,"  _Oh, dear God, not again._ "And the first words for that solo go like this,"

  


And without further ado, she jumped into the piece at full speed.

  


" _A 'nión mhín ó, sin_

_Anall na fir shúrí,"_

  


Charles took a step back from the doorway, not expecting her to race through the Irish Gaelic words at the captivating intensity of  _allegro_.

  


" _A mháithairin mhín_

_Ó, cuir na roithléan_

_Go dtí mé."_

  


He had to confess: Elsie really did know how to speak the language ⎯⎯ to the point where he found himself more than just intrigued by the song.

  


"The chorus, which will repeat multiple times throughout the song," She brought everyone's attention back, "Goes like this."

  


" _Dúlamán, dúlamán, dúlamán na_

_Binne buí, dúlamán na,_

_Binne buí Gaelach!"_

  


It looked to be he wasn't the only one rather impressed: Tom seemed quite thrilled to be hearing that particular language flow from his teacher's lips.

  


" _Dúlamán, dúlamán, dúlamán na_

_Farraigem, dúlamán na,_

_Binne buí Gaelach!"_

  


It also looked to be as though they weren't the only individuals astounded: some of the students were frozen at the sound, having not expected this to be a part of their rehearsal. Though, whether their freezing was due to her delightful proficiency or the sheer difficulty of the language before them, Charles could not tell.

  


"There is, of course, more to learn. But, I think we'll just focus on learning the first few parts before anything else."

  


He slowly crept further out of sight, relieved that she wasn't going to teach them the whole thing in one go.

  


"Now then," Elsie paused to smile encouragingly at them and hopefully inspire a willingness to try something new. "Who's ready to give the words a try?"

  


_._

  


"Mrs. Hughes," She had approached the older woman with a coy air, softly smiling at her teacher. Now that  _a cappella_ rehearsal was over, the young soprano could finally ask a question she'd been waiting a few days to ask.

  


"Yes, Edna?" The choir teacher seemed a bit preoccupied, causing a hint of irritation to flare up in the young woman's features. Still, she managed to school that flare into a neutral smile by the time her teacher fully turned around to converse.

  


"I was just wondering," Her smile widened hopefully, maintaining an air of pure curiosity. "If you had a chance to think about the soloist for the finale song,"

  


If Edna was indeed trying to best to be subtle about her inquiry ⎯⎯  _Am I getting the solo since I did audition?_ ⎯⎯ it did not work with one Elsie Hughes.

  


If anything, it only re-solidified the older woman's opinion.

  


"Well, Edna," She began, fully aware of what was occurring. "Would it not be unfair to make up my mind before everyone has had a chance to audition?"

  


That line of thinking did not fly with the younger singer.

  


"But, surely, Mrs. Hughes, you at least have an idea of who to give it to?" An inkling of Edna's true desire slipped into her eyes and this inkling was something even the young woman was unable to mask.

  


"I'm afraid not. Though, when we announce it later this week, you'll be sure to know."

  


Little did Elsie Hughes know, with a response like that she was only sealing the choir's fate. For, the choir department always made a habit of informing future soloists individually before announcing it to the choir.

  


And, so, the fact that Edna would be finding out with the rest of her classmates only informed the younger woman that she was not to be sharing a part of this solo opportunity ⎯⎯ something that didn't please her one bit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: *Dun Dun Dunnnnn*
> 
> And, this time, I promise it's not going to take so long to update. I should be getting much more of a break now, because the current projects in my work are finally wrapping up.
> 
> __.__
> 
> Additional AO3 A/N: Keep an eye out! I'll be posting chapters 27-30 tonight, so as to finally update the story :)


	28. Apologies and Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original General Author's Note:
> 
> I am so terribly sorry for holding up the updates once again. This time, I'm relieved to say that I have written up the material that takes us to the end of April and will be updating on a two-three day posting schedule from here on out. Long story short, I've finally actually finished a commitment that's taken quite some time (we're talking years here) to complete and now I can keep this going again, for real.
> 
> Moreover, there's going to be some words I normally do not ever care for within this chapter. Not curse words, but insults that ⎯⎯ while I don't like to hear let alone say ⎯⎯ certain characters are inclined to say. That being said, thank you once again for your patience. And, to the guests/previous reviewers, I will respond properly in the next chapter ⎯⎯ I just had to get this posted first.
> 
> ___.___
> 
> Updated Author's Note: Clearly, the 2-3 update didn't work then. But I am pleased to say that it just might work now.

**Wednesday, the 10th of April, 2019**

 

"So, what you're telling me is that you will not only be doing a solo showcase, it'll be in Downton Abbey?"

 

Elsie sighed, nodding in agreement.

 

"Mind you, it was not my idea to have Downton Abbey serve as our location. And, before you say anything else, it wasn't Charles's idea either."

 

"Then how exactly did this come to be?"

 

Elsie merely gave her friend a stare, arching an eyebrow in that fashion that gave the whole story away…

_**~-~** _

_**Tuesday, the 9th of April, 2019** _

 

_They had been in the middle of a discussion about the solo showcase, having not wanted it to be left till the last minute. The problem was, they didn't want to use microphones for an event like this, even though microphones would have to be necessary if the auditorium were to be used. Even after a brisk walk of discussing possible alternative locations ⎯⎯ the courtyard, 402, the church nearby ⎯⎯ they were no closer to figuring it out._

 

_And with the school day starting in only a few hours, it seemed that this discussion would have to be put aside for the time being._

 

_"But, Mr. Carson," She had switched over from calling him "Charles" the second they were a mile away from the school. "Surely the courtyard is just as respectable a location as the church?"_

 

_"Mrs. Hughes, as much as I enjoy the courtyard, I do not find it to be an appropriate space for this occasion."_

 

_Elsie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this. She did recognize his motivation ⎯⎯ he wanted a prestigious location for the students._

 

_It was the fact that he didn't the courtyard ⎯⎯ a place with rich memories for the pair of them ⎯⎯ was appropriate enough that had her miffed._

 

_"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes,"_

 

_"Mrs. Crawley," They politely greeted the administrator, immersed enough in conversation that even her presence didn't distract them._

 

_"Furthermore, the courtyard is small enough that we will not require microphones. Not only that, but it won't be uncomfortable for any students who have a differing religious belief from the church."_

 

_"Mrs. Hughes," He'd begun, astonished that this was one of her lines of thought. But, truly, this wasn't the early 20th century ⎯⎯ a time in which it was presumed everyone had a specific religious belief._

 

_Nevertheless, his forthcoming rebuke was silenced by the not-so-subtle self-insertion of their boss._

 

_"Oh, I do hope I'm not interrupting, but what is it exactly that you're trying to figure out?"_

 

_"Oh, we wouldn't want to bother you with such a simple decision, Mrs. Crawley," Charles began, but_ _she gracefully held up a hand to stop him in his tracks._

 

_"Please, 'bother' me."_

 

_Well, who could resist such an inviting tone?_

 

_"Well, Mrs. Crawley," Elsie picked up, hesitant to involve her employer but equally reserved about letting Charles have his way with the church. "We are at a loss when it comes to reserving a location for the solo showcase."_

 

_"What seems to be the problem?"_

 

_"It's a matter of microphones, Mrs. Crawley," The choir director began to explain, "The auditorium is unsuitable for the soloists if only due to the fact that microphones would be necessary."_

 

_She nodded, understanding._

 

_"I remember the last time we tried to have a solo showcase of any kind ⎯⎯ microphones definitely did not help."_

 

_"Indeed, Mrs. Crawley. No doubt then, you'll understand my reasoning that the best solution for a location would be⎯⎯"_

 

_"Downton Abbey!" Cora interrupted once again, causing both teachers to jolt. For the choir director, images of the last time the choirs performed at the Abbey ⎯⎯ of waltzing and a certain dress ⎯⎯ came to mind. His comrade-in-arms was in a similar state, recalling quietly perusing the downstairs area and garnering more of an understanding of that old world._

 

_"Mrs. Crawley, are you sure that you would be willing to⎯⎯"_

 

_"Oh, it's the perfect location, Mr. Carson! As you very well know, we have a room made for performances of all kinds ⎯⎯ I think even the Great Dame Nellie performed there once ⎯⎯ and I can attest: no microphones will be necessary in the slightest."_

 

_"But, Mrs. Crawley," Now it was Elsie's turn to object: it felt like it would be an imposition and she really would rather take the church by this point. "We would hate to impose,"_

 

_"Nonsense, Mrs. Hughes, it would be an honor. And after the semester you have unfortunately had to endure, I must insist that Downton have the privilege of hosting your event."_

 

_They both gave hesitant smiles, not necessarily invested in this idea. Problem was, it didn't matter if they were invested or not. Cora was adamant about apologizing for what occurred with Mrs. Butte and this seemed to be her notion of asking for forgiveness._

_**~-~** _

**Wednesday, the 10th of April, 2019**

 

"I suppose Mrs. Crawley is persuasive when she wants to be," Beryl remarked with a hint of wryness.

 

"You suppose right," Elsie tiredly agreed, unwittingly giving her friend clues that this was all very depleting.

 

"Is everything alright?"

 

The choir teacher looked back at her colleague and friend, forms of weariness drawing themselves in her gaze.

 

"I'm very happy where I am in life, don't get me wrong." She was now soon to be engaged to the man who'd unintentionally stolen her heart away all those months ago, she still had the ability to maintain a career she loved all the while, and they'd even be able to create a new experience for her students. "It's just taking more than it used to."

 

Well, no wonder, what with everything you're putting on this semester. But, Beryl didn't voice that opinion ⎯⎯ there wasn't a need for it right now. Frankly, it's a wonder Elsie really didn't mention this feeling earlier in the year.

 

"Maybe," She began, reaching out a hand to her dearest friend. "It might be time to slow down a little."

 

Elsie gave her a look, not caring for talk of calling it a day.

 

"Look, I'm not saying you need to retire." Heaven knows, that wouldn't work for either of you. "But, maybe, if you fundraised throughout the year, it would be easier to take them abroad next time. And, maybe, you can hire an assistant to help with the soloists and competing."

 

"While that fundraising idea might work, you know as well as I that the school wouldn't allow the hiring of an assistant ⎯⎯ not with finances the way they're being."

 

"Then find a student volunteer ⎯⎯ someone who needs the hour and is willing to do it for free," Beryl began to snap, frustrated that her plan to help was already being shot down. "But, for God's sake, find a way to take a break before you have to."

 

A frigid silence descended the room as her words settled into the air. The mood shifted, morphing into something tinged with vexation and regret. They both glanced at each other, each processing the scene in their own respective fashions.

 

"I'm sorry," It was quietly spoken in unison as both apologized for their respective mistakes. Snapping, shooting an idea down, these were actions that retrospectively seemed more hindering than anything else.

 

"I'll look into seeing how we can make this easier."

 

"And, I'll try to not to insert myself into your business when it's not my place." Elsie looked up at this, surprised.

 

"My, my," It was the start of a bemused tease.

 

"Emphasis on the word 'try', mind you." This coaxed a snort from the woman.

 

"That sounds more accurate."

 

_._

 

She had been minding his business when he'd overheard the conversation. It was one of those afternoons in which an outdoors lunch looked to be infinitely preferable to mulling about in the cafeteria.

 

Moreover, there was something that seemed a little off about the whole incident, now that she was able to give it some thought.

 

"Yes, I already know I didn't get the solo," Edna was waspish in her response, whoever she was talking to over the phone. "And, no, I won't be telling you how I found out."

 

Lavinia paused in her walk. With a neatly packed lunch, her only requirement for the next forty minutes was to find a spot outside - preferably a sunny spot on on the front lawns of the school ⎯⎯ that would allow her to lounge about and enjoy her food.

 

Consequently, she had a few minutes she could spend overhearing this conversation.

 

"Don't even bring up Dúlamán," Edna snipped before anything else could be mentioned, "Tom had already told me he was too busy to teach me the language."

 

Lavinia resisted the urge to sigh to herself, not sure as to what exactly was going on but finding herself feeling a peculiar sense of weariness. It sounded like the other singer wasn't genuinely interested in Tom's friendship, by the sounds of it.

 

"Yes, well, it hardly helps that the feminist slut is always around," Promptly affronted by what had to be a disgusting description of Sybil Crawley, she started to slowly walk away. She didn't want to continue listening to that filth, and the whole conversation was probably further negativity, nothing more.

 

If only she'd stayed just a little while longer….

 

"Yes, well, I'm sure you remember the stupidity of the choir department here." Edna muttered into her phone, rolling her eyes at life in general. Though, after a few seconds, she paused in her bemoaning of the situation. An eerie glint took hold of her eyes as she continued to listen to her friend over the phone.

 

A plan was coming to mind.

 

"You're telling me," Her tone maneuvered into one entrenching itself with flattery, "If only there was some way to show everyone just how stupid it really is."

 

_._

 

He really hadn't a moment to talk to her since Mrs. Crawley's declaration yesterday. And, even then, any conversation they had couldn't discuss what he truly wanted to talk about. Directing the solo showcase, perfecting their concert repertoire, triple-checking the current fundraising amount, these were all important discussions to be had.

 

But, his mind had been drawn to rings as of late.

 

Charles had never paid jewelry much attention before, not finding it pragmatic or professional for the most part. And he'd never engaged in conversation about this sort of thing, ring sizes and things of that nature. Certainly, the choir director also never had cause to discuss the type of life, the inherent symbolism, attached to the specific rings coming to mind.

 

"Mr. Carson?"

 

Mary had been standing in the doorway of 402 for a fair amount of time, choosing to observe her teacher for a few moments. He'd seemed different as of late, and she couldn't figure out just what it was that had changed.

 

"Mary?" He was clearly taken aback, and rightfully so. She could never recall a time in which anyone had been able to sneak up on him, intentionally or not.

 

"Since the solo showcase is only a few weeks away, I was wondering if I could work on it a little more." It's not the real reason she's here ⎯⎯ she doesn't even really have a "real" reason.

 

What she does have is the desire to get away from the world around her.

 

Get away and enjoy the company of one her favourite teachers.

 

_._

**Thursday, the 11th of April, 2019**

 

Grief was wearing off, that's for sure.

 

But, it wasn't gone.

 

"Alright, Elsie," She murmured to herself ⎯⎯ simultaneously delighted with the world and yet so very, very tired, "It's time to figure out the soloists."

 

The auditions ended yesterday, with most of the students having already gone in the previous days. Now, it was time to properly converse with Charles over the matter and make a final decision. Possibly figure out the soloist for Dúlamán while she was at it, for that matter.

 

Problem was, this was the first time she couldn't really pay attention to the individual auditioners. This had been a strange period of hearing sound without listening to the voice, of acknowledging the existence of noise without distinguishing its brilliance.

 

Her phone vibrated, signalling a text and stirring her thoughts away.

 

_**Would you be inclined to discuss soloists off-campus today? There's a cafe only half a mile from the school I was hoping to take you to at some point.** **CC** _

 

Normally, in an effort to make themselves available to any student who needed their assistance, the couple always stayed on-campus for lunch.

 

This time, she felt inclined to do things a little differently.

 

_**I'd be delighted.** **EH** _

 

_._

 

"I wonder when we'll finally hear about the soloist," Sybil dreamily began, a smile playing on her lips.

 

"Did you not hear Mrs. Hughes earlier this week? They said they'd announcing the finale soloist by the end of this week." It was a sensitive subject for Mary, one that she'd been thinking of a great deal ⎯⎯ especially after she auditioned.

 

"Oh, not that solo,"

 

"Just what solo are you interested in?" Edith couldn't think of another one currently on the table of auditions, and was a little intrigued by her sister's interest.

 

"For Dúlamán, what else?"

 

_._

 

"So, we're in agreement then?" It had taken a fair amount of discussion, but they were once again reaching a consensus in regards to the finale solo. And, though he was not in charge of helping her with the Irish folk song, he was able to even pitch in his two cents on the matter.

 

Now, came the real conversation.

 

"There was one other thing I wanted to discuss, Elsie,"

 

He had noticed she had been getting a tad obsessive about checking their fundraising efforts. What had once been a jointly check-in at the end of every month was slowly turning into an almost daily ritual.

 

She looked up from her phone, having been eyeing the very thing he'd been concerned about.

 

"Yes?"

 

Now, this was a delicate matter. On one hand, if he were to approach this too harshly, she would ignore his concerns altogether and possibly double her level of concern. On the other hand, if he were to let the matter go unchecked, she'd continue to worry herself into the ground.

 

Last time they'd checked, the choirs had surpassed £7,000 by a nice amount, meaning that the final 25 students would only have to pay around £200 to participate ⎯⎯ something that was far more manageable than the original price. In essence, even though fundraising would be continuing as long as it could, they could have far more confidence about the matter than before.

 

"Charles?"

 

Her repeat of verbal curiosity did not fall on deaf ears, he simply had no idea what he wanted to say. Oh, he had been brewing over how to approach this conversation for a little while now. It was simply that the words were failing him in this matter.

 

"I had been contemplating our fundraising efforts," He slowly began, still hesitant to dive into the matter.

 

"As have I," She was starting to take over the discussion, bringing her phone up so they could look over the current spreadsheets. Having not been one to rely on solely GoFundMe, Elsie had taken it upon herself to map out their finances through spreadsheets. "In fact,"

 

"I think we need to take a step back from it all."

 

He hadn't meant to interrupt her, it just sort of occurred.

 

"Pardon?"

 

Her phone was loosely clutched, her mouth contorted as she bit her lip in confusion. He settled for reaching a hand to gently take the phone away and set it down on their table.

 

"Well, I did some math and realized that ⎯⎯ although we should continue our efforts in this matter ⎯⎯ we have raised enough money to let the matter rest whilst preparing for the final showcase and show." His mind flashed to another topic of interest ⎯⎯ that of their future together ⎯⎯ but knew better than to press the matter.

 

With brows furrowed together, she glanced back at her mobular device before her eyes met his once more.

 

"Suppose something changes and not for the better?" Elsie's resolve reaffirmed itself as her fears furtively bubbled to the surface. "After everything we'd had to go through, I could not stand the thought of everything going wrong at the last minute."

 

He softly exhaled, not understanding why she ⎯⎯ the one whose laugh was so hearty and light, who dared to stroll about in thunderstorms, who pushed them to live a little more each day ⎯⎯ wasn't able to take this in stride. Why she couldn't let this matter go, why she couldn't just allow herself a little rest?

 

But, her words echoed in his mind and hints of revelation passed over him.

 

"Suppose we lose all the money," He started once more, taking his time to observe her distressed reaction as his own words begged to be heard. "Suppose the plane crashes as we're landing in the States? Suppose the competition is cancelled right after we arrive?"

 

She stiffened, uncharacteristically tensing up further with each possibility. And with her building pressure, he found himself withdrawing into a strange calmness ⎯⎯ one that hadn't seemed possible before, especially not in the presence of this captivating woman.

 

"The truth is that we do not know what the future holds," Charles found the words as though they'd been craving to uttered for decades, instead of mere minutes.

 

"Or how much longer we'll even be here," The teacher muttered under her breath, absolutely remembering her dear friend at this time.

 

"Or how much longer we'll even be here." He concurred, reaching out a hand across the table. She stared it questioningly, as though it laid just beyond her reach. "And since we cannot possibly hope to predict the future, wouldn't it be in our best interest to take each moment as it comes? Reserve our energy for when it's necessary instead of expending it before we're ready?"

 

Charles had nothing more to say, nothing that hadn't already been spoken.

 

He could only hope that she would hear the message for what it was meant to be.

 

A few seconds passed softly. Then a minute slowly crawled by, testing the resolve of this silence. He was determined to give her the time to make her own decision, she was stuck in whatever fog currently clouded her thoughts.

 

But after another minute or three, Elsie quietly shut off her phone ⎯⎯ putting it out of sight in her purse. She reached out her own hand to grasp his, taking in the sensation that traveled through her at the feeling.

 

She couldn't beam with happiness or let a twinkle rest in her eyes.

 

But she could let the soothing comfort he was offering ⎯⎯ in his words, in his gaze, in his touch ⎯⎯ envelope her and relieve some of the pain she was carrying.

 

And, if that was all he asked of her in this moment, she could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: Like I said, keep an eye out for the next update. And, truly, thank you for your patience with this. I cannot describe how crazy it's all been. But that's all coming to an end, so I can really focus on doing this story justice once more.


	29. Suspense and A Showcase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: Who's ready for one more show before the concert?
> 
> Also, I will respond properly to everyone's messages and encouragements when I can. Once again, thank you for any and all reviews, as well as just reading this. It's very, very appreciated.

**Thursday, the 25th of April, 2019**

 

"I can't explain, I'm not sure what happened," Elsie was staring at the door in which William left. He'd just finished his rehearsal for the showcase the night evening, but for someone who had grown in confident he seemed to have diminished a great deal over the last week.

 

And it wasn't just "nerves", like he said.

 

"I must admit: something does seem wrong." Charles ignored the rolling of her eyes, knowing by now not to take it personally. "Do you think we should ask some of the other students if they've noticed anything?"

 

"There may be some merit to that," She'd muttered, pondering the matter further. William was certainly not the only one who seemed to be struck by this unusual case of stage fright, though he was one of the clearer cases. "Just be selective about who you ask."

 

He sent her a look in response: as though he wasn't going to be selective.

 

Though, knowing Charles, he'd select the wrong person by mistake.

 

_._

 

"I wouldn't be that stupid to try to steal the money,"

 

Ethel perked up at the sound of such scandal, being unable to resist the temptation of eavesdropping ⎯⎯ and certainly not when she was surrounded by the stupid chatter of her fellow peers.

 

"There's no way Hughes or Carson would even let me get anywhere close to it in the first place,"

 

It was a girl, that much was clear. It even sounded a bit familiar, even though Ethel couldn't place it with all the other noise in the hallway. And, when she turned in the direction of the sound, she discovered nothing except for that same chatter that bored her to tears in the first place.

 

Make no mistake: she was rather intrigued by whatever she just listened in on. And if Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were being mentioned, that meant it had to be related to the choirs….

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson," He's being approached by Beryl Patmore faster than he can say  _presto_ and it'd be alarming if not for the fact that Elsie prepared him for this. "I do believe we need to have a conversation,"

 

He's not interested in letting the public eyes of the school be drawn into this particular conversation, which prompts a calm, "I do believe I am already ahead of you in this conversation,"

 

She cocked an eyebrow at the speed of  _moderato_ , hardly giving more than a quarter note of rest before unceremoniously speeding him off in the direction of the second fourth floor.

 

"Oh? Do tell!"

 

It's not a request so much as a command that's somehow both gleeful and wary.

 

_._

 

"Do you ever wonder about the people here sometimes?"

 

Septimus had been enjoying the refreshing breeze of the outside world when Gladys had put this question to him.

 

"If you mean I wonder about the intelligence of our fellow classmates, I've long since stopped questioning its lack thereof."

 

She snorted, the sound strangely delightful all things considered.

 

"Not that," Gladys paused in her thoughts, looking out across the lawn and to the radiant world in front of them. "I mean, you ever think about how there's a big chance we're going to school with a sociopath."

 

Well, his brain had been nowhere near that  _line_  of thought, that's for sure.

 

"Where'd that come from?" He hoped she wasn't trying to imply anything about his character, not after their years of quirky friendship.

 

"I'm not really sure," The alto confessed, still staring out. "I just watch people sometimes, and can't help but noticing a few things."

 

_._

 

It comes to Elsie as a surprise when she opens her desk drawer to discover there's an envelope addressed to her waiting inside. Even more surprising is what's resting in the envelope: a copy of Ripon's map with certain accessory shops highlighted, and one more piece of paper tucked in the back.

 

On closer inspection, it turns out what she thought was paper was actually⎯⎯

 

"It may surprise you to know that I have selected my personal preference for where we ought to take the choirs this summer," He quietly announces his presence, sending goosebumps down her spine in the process. "As well as put together a list of shops I'd like the two of us to investigate relatively soon."

 

"Have you now?"

 

Charles nods, as though the conclusion were quite obvious. And truly, it is. She is now holding the picture posted only about a week ago in her hands and there's only one type of women's accessory he'd be thinking of, after all.

 

But she wants to hear him say the words himself.

 

"To say I would be honored to travel with you and our students to Chicago is to say that I admire the Concert Choir's efforts from time to time." She chuckled a little as he continued, "And to say that I am interested in  _our_  purchasing a ring together is to say

 

_._

 

"Edith,"

 

Lavinia approaches the middle Crawley sister with more than an air of trepidation, hoping that her intended words soothe instead of add to the apparent distress.

 

"Lavinia? Is everything alright?"

 

She smiles a bit at this: it only figures that the soprano would think something were wrong with her.

 

"I just wanted to say, I think you'll be brilliant tomorrow." The younger woman confesses, coaxing a matching smile from her classmate.

 

"Thank you," It's unexpected enough that Edith genuinely feels a warmth flood her senses.

 

And though Edna's biting words still coldly echo around her, Lavinia's encouragement brushes some of the reverberation away.

 

For once, she finds herself agreeing.

 

_._

**Friday, the 26th of April, 2019**

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Rarely did the woman in question receive such an unorthodox ambush on the way to second fourth floor. "If I may borrow you for a moment?"

 

Unorthodox or not, she couldn't say no to one of her bosses.

 

"Of course, Mrs. Crawley." Turning to Charles, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Carson."

 

He nodded, being quite unable to do anything else as Cora led Elsie away into the administrators' main area. And, after making a few mandatory rounds of greeting ⎯⎯ "Good morning, Mrs. Crawley, how are you today?", "Good morning, Isobel, how are you today?" ⎯⎯ she was finally ushered into Cora's office in which she was given no additional reason as to what she was being called in for.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Elsie did still find it to be somewhat endearing that the staff respected what Mr. Carson called her, even if it was a bit irregular. "You may be wondering as to why I called you in today."

 

"I admit I am a little confused, yes." Normally, she'd say nothing. But, Elsie had soon discovered that Cora was the type of boss who enjoyed reciprocity of all kinds. And therefore, the woman almost always expected and even wanted a response in her conversations. "Though I can only suppose it relates to our showcase today."

 

The administrator chuckled a little at this, nodding. "It does have something to do with that, yes."

 

She then proceeded to open a drawer in her desk before meticulously fishing around for something in particular. Elsie patiently waited, still having no real clue of just what on Earth she was doing here. However, seeing as how a lecture wasn't spilling into the room, she was willing to continue waiting.

 

"Ah, here they are!" It was a triumphant declaration that served to only make the situation more cryptic. But it was the tinkle and jangling of metal caressing metal that had Elsie guessing what Cora had possibly just found. "I knew it was this drawer!"

 

"Mrs. Crawley?" The woman glanced up, still not revealing her found treasure.

 

"Please, call me Cora. I insist." Elsie nodded, resolving to humour her employer on this matter ⎯⎯ if only so that the current secret was revealed.

 

At this assent, the administrator brought the objects in question out into the open:

 

"These are the keys of Downton Abbey." Gleaming under the sight of natural lighting as well as a lamp, the keys sent an unfamiliar feeling of clarity and warmth towards Elsie. It was as though she'd seen them before, as though she'd had them by her side at some point in life, even though she could never recall seeing them before.

 

"And, you would like me to bring these to Mr. Carson?" Because, the administrator before her couldn't possibly be trusting  _her_ of all people to handle the keys for a place like Downton Abbey.

 

"Not quite, Mrs. Hughes." Cora smiled, thinking back to the events of the semester even as she continued to speak. "Something tells me that  _you_  can be trusted with this privilege."

 

She barely resisted the urge to gape as Cora held out them out ⎯⎯ not giving her a chance to deny anything or to try to change the situation.

 

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have a class in about forty minutes." Without understanding how, Elsie suddenly found herself in possession of the keys and quickly attaching them to her lanyard along with her own personal ones. There was a new distinction in weight that came with this, but somehow it didn't feel burdensome.

 

"Indeed I do." But manners had not complete escape her, even if she was still shocked. "Thank you, Mrs.⎯⎯ Cora."

 

The woman beamed at this, quite pleased with the situation.

 

"You're welcome, Mrs. Hughes. And may I just say that we're all looking forward to seeing tonight's show!"

 

Elsie nodded once more, giving her thanks once more even as she began to exit the room. It was only once she departed from the office that a quiet sigh of surprise left her.

 

"I see she decided to give you the keys of Downton."

 

Violet Crawley's prim tone shocked her back into attention, somehow making Elsie feel as though she were being lectured by her own teachers. Consequently, she forced herself to remain as collected and reserved in the presence of the matriarch of the Crawley family.

 

"I told her she should have done so sooner. How else are you and Mr. Carson to fully prepare for this evening's showcase?"

 

The faint approval dripping from the sharp words registered a few seconds after they were uttered. Luckily, Elsie didn't have to reply.

 

"Well, I think it was wise to wait until today⎯⎯"

 

"Of course you would."

 

"⎯⎯ what if an accident were to befall them?"

 

As Isobel and Violet began to bicker amongst themselves, Elsie took this as her cue to leave.

 

As she did so, her latest addition of keys made themselves known. And, so, once she departed from the area, the administrators turned their conversation toward that instead.

 

"She does wear them well, I suppose." Mrs. Gaunt blandly conceded, still remembering her unpleasant encounter with Mr. Carson the day the fire alarm went off.

 

"You suppose correctly," Isobel interjected, certainly not in the mood to have anyone speak poorly of the woman. "It were as though they were made for her."

 

"Instead of for Mr. Carson?" Violet acerbically spoke up, "I do believe his knowledge of Downton makes him far worthier a candidate for that privilege."

 

"Yes, well, it was my decision to make," Cora had returned from her office, having caught the last of the ongoing discussion. "And I decided that Mrs. Hughes should have this privilege."

 

Everyone, including Violet Crawley, promptly froze at this.

 

Everyone, that is, for Isobel Crawley.

 

"Hear, hear!" She resolutely nodded, "I can't help but agree!"

 

"Of course you do," Violet muttered, far too regal for an eye-roll at the agreement.

 

But, before they could continue this argument⎯⎯  _discussion_ , the first bell of the day rang, signalling the end of that conversation.

 

_._

 

"I can't wait to perform at Downton tonight!" Rose excitedly spoke, her eyes glowing with happiness as she checked the stats of the choir's Instagram page.

 

"I certainly can." Mary coolly responded, nearly rolling her eyes at the sight of that page. She, along with the other soloists, had her picture taken in an effort to post it on the page and advertise for tonight's show.

 

Frankly, it seemed a bit excessive, if you asked her.

 

"I can as well." Edith muttered nearby, her confidence more than a little shaken.

 

"But, isn't it exciting?" Sybil asked curiously, "To be performing in one of the places we consider home?"

 

"That's one way to look at it." Mary dryly remarked, once again the very image of unimpressed.

 

Granted, there was more than one reason for that feeling of disenchantment. But, she was certainly not going to be saying anything to any of her sisters, let alone Rose.

 

_._

 

Charles had listened to her steps for quite some time, having been waiting for the sound ever since she was called away by Mrs. Crawley. And while the click-clack of her heels remained consistent, there was something different about her steps.

 

He listened more closely than he had in a long time, closing his eyes so as to allow the sound to become clearer. The click of her heels with each step, the sound of her keys as⎯⎯

 

The keys.  _That's_  what was different.

 

The door closest to him quietly opened, "Mr. Carson?" and his eyes couldn't help but go to the lanyard, inspecting the new additions. These keys were beautiful, certainly older than possibly even this school and crafted so carefully that he couldn't help but think that⎯⎯

 

"They gave you the keys to Downton."

 

She smiled, nodding in appreciation of his quickly grasping the situation.

 

"For today only, mind you."

 

He nodded, still shocked that Cora had entrusted her after knowing her for only a year and yet bursting with pride that this was the case. Not only was that a great sign of approval from the administrator, Elsie wore them so well ⎯⎯ as though they had always belonged on her person ⎯⎯ he found himself bowled over with admiration.

 

"Of course," He rose to his feet, having an incredibly strong urge to kiss her and enjoy this moment as much as he possibly could. In fact, with thirty-five minutes left before the Bass Choir was to meander in, now seemed the perfect time to do so. "Makes perfect sense."

 

"Does it now?"

 

His response was resolute enough to convince her. So much so that she'd nearly forgotten what she wanted to focus on in the first place.

 

"Char⎯⎯ Mr. Carson," He couldn't help but give a grin at that, knowing that Elsie's slip indicated how distractingly persuasive he had been. Moreover, to hear her voice sound like  _that_ \- with every "R" rolling even more than normal - made it even more difficult to resist continuing to persuade her on the matter. "As much as I'd like to continue this discussion, today  _is_ the 26th. And I do believe we agreed that we would check the numbers today."

 

Now he really wished he'd continued in his efforts to persuade. Already, he could see tension creeping back into her shoulders. She wasn't biting her lip yet, but her eyes held a concentrated fire that spoke of sparking concern and crackling nerves.

 

"We did agree to wait till the day was over, did we not?"

 

She nodded, "Yes, but I wanted to make sure that was still the case."

 

Aka,  _why did we agree to this silly arrangement? And would it be possible to find out now just how much we made?_

 

"I still believe that to be the wisest move on our part, yes." If the numbers were great, that would be fantastic. However, if it did not work out in their favor ⎯⎯ as many parts of life were apt to do ⎯⎯ that would cause a dismal air to befall the choirs and unintentionally possibly ruin the confidence of their soloists.

 

"And I take it we're still in agreement that it has to be higher than £8,000?" She arched an eyebrow, very much hoping to have surpassed that number, regardless of their agreement.

 

"Yes."

 

She nodded once more, silently giving him a moment to change his mind.

 

When it became clear that Charles was not going to budge on the matter, she recollected herself, uttered a quick "Right. That's that, then.", and proceeded to return back to the preparations of the morning. He followed her lead, returning back to looking over various correspondences and other tasks. But, soon enough, he found himself distracted by the thought of the numbers ⎯⎯ as well as figuring out just what they would be doing this summer.

 

And, after fifteen minutes of distracted work, he was wondering if this particular agreement ⎯⎯ to wait until after classes would be over ⎯⎯ was a mistake.

 

_._

 

"Do you think something's going on with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"What d'ya mean?"

 

"It's just, they seem stressed today. Kind of like they're losing their heads."

 

"It's gotta be the show tonight, that's probably freaking them out."

 

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

 

"You mean, you hope that's it…."

 

"Yeah, pretty much."

_._

 

_**What's this I hear about** _ **a cappella** _**rehearsal being canceled? - BP** _

 

_**In an effort to help the soloists preserve their voices for tonight, we thought it best for the rehearsal to be canceled. - CC** _

 

_**K. What's this I hear about students feeling like they're walking on eggshells? - BP** _

 

_**Never you mind! - EH** _

_._

 

"You don't think we're being too harsh on the students today, do you, Mr. Carson?"

 

"Not particularly, no, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"... Why am I not convinced by that?"

 

She glanced over at him, sighing at the sight of her phone. Beryl had made a good point, perhaps they were being a tad too exacting when it came to their standards of the choirs today.

 

In any case, they had one last class today in which they could rectify this mistake.

 

And Elsie was now determined to be far more

 

_._

 

There was a wave of " _lu"_ s that crescendo-ed and decrescendo-ed with ease, rippling around the lead and bass part so beautifully as the Treble Choir builds in momentum one final time. This was a piece they'd been working on for ages and one that was at last coming together.

 

" _I'll never let you go,"_

 

It's a firm sentiment, one that only steadily builds even as the choir lowers their dynamic level to a quieter volume.

 

" _I'll never let you go,"_

 

Chords that have slowly been locking into place over the past couple of months are now gorgeously solidified. Overtones swirl above the crowd of young women as they chorus one more. Their teacher, a woman who'd been carrying the burdens of the future for quite some time, couldn't help but sink blissfully into the harmony before her.

 

" _I'll never let,"_

 

Energy crescendoing as the barbershop tag was reaching the stunning, simple climax within the piece. What was once simply four parts of music was now a cohesive sound ⎯⎯ and it truly beginning to show.

 

" _You,"_

 

Sliding through their notes as though they were born to do so, the singers proudly held out their respective chords ⎯⎯ letting the intensity expand once more. Chord upon chord was built, particular harmonies gliding to the forefront of the room and expanding so as to ring through every barrier that dared to constrict it.

 

" _Go."_

 

With a beam of pride mixed with happiness at the sound of such harmony, Elsie gracefully encouraged the choir to finish the tag ⎯⎯ so very, very touched that they were finally beginning to come together as a proper choir. It had taken them many months to reach this level of cohesion, and it was genuinely beginning to pay off in regards to the quality of sound and blending of voices.

 

And, when ⎯the Treble Choir finished this time, there was only a brief respite of quiet before a resounding applause came from Mr. Carson. Said applause only coaxed a proper grin out of his fellow colleague, delight now blending into the crowd all around. After all, Mr. Carson rarely applauded so resolutely for any rehearsal ⎯ surely, that only proved they did splendidly this time?

 

Why, yes. Yes, it did.

 

_._

 

"Are you excited for the showcase tonight, Violet?"

 

Really, Isobel should have known better than to ask the woman such a question.

 

The Mrs. Crawley in question simply primly raised an eyebrow, finding the inquiry to be unnecessarily vulgar in its suggestion.

 

"I am curious, Isobel, which is a great deal more worthwhile than 'excited'."

 

Not one to be put out, Isobel chose to redirect her question towards Cora.

 

"I'm bursting with excitement, if you must know," That Mrs. Crawley confessed with a grin, finding herself looking very much forward to the evening.

 

"You would be," Violet muttered distastefully, prompting both her conversational companions to resist rolling their eyes at this snobbish display. "Though, I suppose it is a worthy cause to some extent ⎯⎯ supporting the choir's financial endeavours."

 

She was clearly only thinking of the benefit that such a performance would provide for helping the choirs fundraise and how happy Mr. Carson would be if they raised enough money at this particular event. Obviously, the sight of seeing her granddaughters beautifully sing divine solos had nothing on the faint fondness radiating in her gaze.

 

… _. Yeah, right. Whatever you need to tell yourself,_ the unspoken thought helpfully supplied itself as Isobel found herself searching for patience.

 

No matter; no snobbiness of any kind was going to get in her way of enjoying what was only a few hours away.

 

_._

 

"Well?" Charles stood by her desk, unable to remain quiet any longer. Though he'd been the one to suggest refraining from checking the numbers until this point in time, now he found himself quite incapable of practicing any hint of patience. "Is it or isn't it?"

 

Elsie remained silent, her eyes still fixed on the screen even as she registered the numbers before her. She methodically double-checked the numbers, not wanting to chance her misreading the total sum at a time like this.

 

But, there it was, clear as day:

 

_**£8,625.44** _

 

"It is." It was a whisper, one that hardly believed the facts before her. She then turned in her chair, beginning to properly register what was going to happen next. "Mr. Car⎯⎯ Charles, it's enough!"

 

He sharply released a breath of air, his hands craving to play with his jacket as he felt rather surreal himself. Months of preparation, a great deal of time spent contemplating this matter as well as planning their fundraising efforts, and they had now enough to  _finally_ , officially move forward. No more wondering as to whether or not it would be possible ⎯⎯ even if they still had £2,000 pounds to raise to keep it free for interested students, it was far more manageable now - this was becoming a part of reality.

 

She swiftly stood up, unwilling to contain her excitement as she eagerly embraced him ⎯⎯ boldly kissing him in an attempt to convey her feelings. The students should be long gone by now, so surely they could indulge in this harmless moment of achievement and ecstasy. He responded in turn by deepening the kiss before briefly spinning her around the main space of the classroom, so very very delighted to have finally fulfilled this promise. Tinkling sounds of laughter and happiness escaped the couple as they basked in their combined accomplishment.

 

And, after another minute or two of realizing the blissful reality right around the corner, he dared to break the happy silence.

 

"To Chicago it is?"

 

For it was the Windy City they were officially aiming for. This was the town she'd fallen in love with and one that he'd never had the pleasure of seeing.

 

"To Chicago, it is."

 

__.__

 

"Mrs. Patmore?" William had one question for Mrs. Hughes, just one about the showcase this evening. Though, much to his surprise, the band director was standing right outside 402 and unapologetically blocking the entrance he was closest to.

 

"William?" She spoke just above a whisper, wondering what brought him here.

 

"I was looking for Mrs. Hughes." He matched her level of volume, unsure of why they were even talking at the dynamic level of  _sotto voce_. And what brought her here of all places. "I have a question for her and⎯⎯"

 

"Well that will just have to wait till later," Beryl firmly, quietly spoke as she started ushering him back towards the stairwell.

 

"Were you waiting for them as well?" He can't help but whisper in response, still deeply curious about her being here. However, she was already open the door to the stairs for him, shooing him out with ease.

 

After all, having almost walked in on her friends while they were in the middle of their "discussion" ⎯⎯ a discussion she had been waiting to occur for  _months_ , mind ⎯⎯ she was hardly going to let them be interrupted by a student. She'd known all about their agreement to wait until now to finally make a decision, and she also knew that their current actions indicated that the fundraising had been an all-around success.

 

And if Elsie felt scandalized by the interrogation she would be receiving later, Beryl'd be reminding her dear friend that one doesn't go kissing one's coworkers in front of a classroom door that allows just anyone to look in.

 

Especially if one wants to keep said kiss a secret.

 

_._

 

As with most things in life, celebrations were often interrupted by obligation.

 

And, even if obligations didn't swipe aside happy times, there were other surprises that were quite willing to do so.

 

_._

 

"What do you mean, I'm to sing last?"

 

The fact that there wasn't a single "Mrs. Hughes" in that question only served to inform the choir teacher that her pupil was more than a little shocked by this decision.

 

"Exactly that, Mary." Truly, she'd thought the soprano would have adored the fact that she was finishing off the show. Yet, it looked more like the young woman was more nervous about the concept than anything else.

 

"But, surely, Jimmy or someone else could finish the show,"

 

This was truly a bizarre situation. Here she, Elsie Hughes, was consoling the nerves of one Mary Crawley. A growing soprano who had always seemed so certain of her talent, a soloist who had been working at improving herself probably since she was six years old, if not earlier.

 

"Mr. Carson and I have already decided and printed out the programs," Although she started with a tone that brook no argument, Elsie eased up a bit ⎯⎯ noticing Mary's growing worry at the sound of Charles's name. She now had a good guess as to part of the reason why the young woman was so visibly distressed. "So, there's no going back now."

 

It shouldn't have been possible, but Mary's posture tensed up even more at the sound of that, even as she was steeling herself up to do the job.

 

Well, this would hardly do.

 

"Mary," The unguarded warmth in her tone, one enveloped in a soft  _piano_ sound, stopped her student from completely shutting her out.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

 

_Do you not supposed that there's a level of trust in your talent if you were selected to finish the show?_

 

That was probably currently a bit too blunt for the young lady, aloof as she may currently be trying to act. But, there were no other words coming to Elsie's mind, no forms of verbal encouragement to bestow upon the situation. And, judging from the look on Mary's face, the young woman was not going to shatter like glass even though she also clearly could use some form of encouragement.

 

So, the choir teacher decided to go for something a little unorthodox, but something that would hopefully get the message across nonetheless:

 

Opening her arms so as to silently invite the young woman in for a reassuring hug, Elsie Hughes was surprised to say that Mary Crawley took her up on her offer within seconds ⎯⎯ quietly clinging to her teacher in an uncharacteristic display of fear.

 

Though, it took the young woman far longer to utter just the very thing messing with her confidence.

 

"I don't want to let them down, not at Downton."

 

It's whispered as shakes unwilling break out throughout the eldest Crawley sister's body ⎯⎯ her inner thoughts and fears bubbling to the surface of their hug. It only serves to break the calculated dam that is the eldest Crawley sister's mind, pressing her to release the rivulets that are her worries. And now everything now makes even more sense than before, only giving her teacher further cause to kindly, resolutely hug her pupil.

 

This is the scene that Charles eventually walks into when he's checking in on the situation ⎯⎯ having been shooed out of the room by a knowing Beryl only minutes before Elsie told Mary the night's set list. When he walks into this, he's as quiet as a mouse, even though he's rather unable to refrain from gaping in concerned shock.

 

Elsie looks up slowly, silently reassuring him all is well and that he can carry on with the evening's duties. And he finds himself realizing that it doesn't matter if all is well or not; this is far too precious a moment for him to simply return back to the role of a methodical director. It is instantly one of his favourite moments of the year, bringing him such indescribable joy that he cannot do anything other than stand for at least another minute and bask in the scene before him.

 

"You won't tell Mama or Mr. Carson will you?"

 

That's his cue to stealthily slip out of the room undetected, which he so-very-fortunately succeeds in doing so.

 

"I do believe they would understand," Elsie's eyes hardly glance in his long-gone direction, even as she reflects on the overwhelming adoration that flooded his gaze only moments ago. "But I won't mention a thing, not if you don't want me to."

 

"Thank you."

 

One day, Elsie hopes Mary can tell both individuals about these feelings.

 

In this moment, she can only concede that this is all right for right now.

 

_._

 

Edna had made sure to snag herself a seat as close to the front of the supposed "stage area" as possible. She couldn't get the front row, but she was going to do her best to make sure each soloist knew just who was in the crowd.

 

It was just a pity her dear friend couldn't make it this evening. Even though it was probably for the best, she'd like to have some decent company around.

 

"Oh, Mrs. Crawley," Cora Crawley was unintentionally approaching her as the older woman was making her way to her seat. "I'm so looking forward to seeing your daughters and the other students sing tonight!"

 

The administrator eagerly nodded, taking her at her word.

 

"I'm sure it'll be quite the show!"

 

Edna resisted the urge to smirk at this, feeling exactly the same way. After all, she managed to hit up several of the soloists. If they somehow miraculously regained even an ounce of confidence tonight, she was totally confident many of them would still flop.

 

"I'm sure you're right!"  _It should definitely be quite the show._

 

_._

 

They had gone to the downstairs area of Downton Abbey to support their fellow classmates and give a few words of encouragement.

 

What they had not expected was to find their classmates in a sense of agitation and hysteria.

 

"Anna? What's going on?" Matthew approached her with more than mere traces of concern in his voice as he looked about at some of the other soloists still preparing for the show.

 

"I'm not exactly sure," The young woman confessed. "Everyone seemed fine, but then someone must've said something because it's all going downhill from here."

 

It was a fairly accurate statement, at least in regards to the attitude of the students at hand. Instead of the brilliant confidence that had colored the solo competition back in March, most of the students performing tonight seemed unusually on edge and ruffled.

 

"Something tells me Edna's involved with this," Lavinia murmured to Daisy ⎯⎯ her gut instinct telling her their peer somehow had a hand in all of this. The  _Bel Canto_ singer nodded in agreement, having no doubt of this. "Where's Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?"

 

"Mr. Carson is managing the stage upstairs," Anna supplied helpfully. "Mrs. Hughes is speaking to a student, I believe."

 

Matthew nodded, "Then, I supposed it's up to us to save the day."

 

"What do you mean?" Lavinia asked, even though Matthew was already trying to call the other students' attention away from whatever was worrying them.

 

"Excuse me," He called out, managing to fail to grasp his classmates' focus. "Pardon me, everyone, but⎯⎯"

 

Daisy was growing a little tired of his efforts after about fifteen seconds or so. He was either too quiet in demeanour or they were too distressed, because no one was paying Matthew any mind. And, after another minute or two of this frustrating process, she decided to get their attention herself.

 

"OI!" Suddenly remembering that she was only a  _Bel Canto_ singer and not quite worthy of yelling at her peers just yet, Daisy blushed. "Please give Matthew your attention: he has something important to say."

 

The tenor in question nodded, having been wracking his brain for some sort of encouragement to break the rut that was overthinking.

 

"Right. Well," He hesitantly began, already knowing he was losing his audience and still being unable to string together motivation.

 

"What Matthew wants to say is that we all know each and every one of you will do brilliantly. That Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson wouldn't have put this together if they didn't know you were all going to be absolutely brilliant." Lavinia stepped in, long since recognizing Matthew's problem. "And, furthermore,"

 

She kept her speech as brief as possible, not wanting to bore them to tears. And, sure enough, the anxiety within the downstairs area receded to a far calmer state of existence. Nerves still existed, but outright worry was dissipating the more she spoke.

 

_._

 

Beryl had watched with only half of her focus being on the performance itself.

 

"Thank you for all coming this evening and supporting our students..."

 

Typically, she'd give such proceedings her full attention. In this case, she was willing to settle for half of her concentration going to the performance and the other half going to the performers themselves.

 

"We are very proud to present our soloists tonight..."

 

And, so, it was with a sense of relief that she noticed both Elsie and Charles seemed to be in a much better headspace now.

 

"And, so, without further adieu,"

 

If they were far calmer, that could only imply less anxiety for and from the students. Which was always wonderful news, in her personal opinion.

 

_._

 

Normally, any sort of concert or showcase would captivate Charles Carson's attention from start to finish.

 

These days, he was lucky to find the show enthralling enough to give three-quarters of his focus. He was a professional, by all means. Still, he couldn't help but find his gaze wandering to the woman playing at the piano, watching her expressions enchant his attention far more than the current student at hand. He had taken to standing backstage, observing it all from the sidelines due to the fact that his skills as accompaniment as well as choir director were currently needed.

 

Though, whether his skills were needed or not, a not-so-subtle elbow from his companion standing by his right side informed him that he was staring too much.

 

" _And the dead shall be,"_

 

Upon realizing that it was Jimmy performing, Charles couldn't help but fully understand why he wasn't able to properly focus for the last three minutes. The tenor's behavior this last semester, one that reeked of tiresome arrogance, had made working with him more arduous than it needed to be. Consequently, the choir director was lacking in giving interest to this part of the performance, if only because he was recalling all the slights he'd witnessed these last few months.

 

Truly, why Elsie allowed him to keep a solo with such an attitude, he'd never know.

 

_._

 

As William silently took himself to the "stage" area ⎯⎯ aka, the front of the room, next to the quaint piano ⎯⎯ he couldn't help but catch the overwhelming applause that accompanied his steps.

 

It was that applause, coupled with an audacious cheer of excitement from both Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, that had tension roll off his shoulders as he began to mentally prepare himself for his solo. In those few seconds of concentration, he could admit that Lavinia was right when she spoke to them earlier. He also knew that Edna was wrong when she'd been jabbing and insulting him earlier this week:

 

He was going to be absolutely brilliant.

 

_._

 

When it was time for her to perform, Mary found herself rising to her feet more primly than she currently felt. And it was with an elegant air ⎯⎯ one that came with many years of practice ⎯⎯ that she carried herself down to the front of the performance area.

 

The one thing she had not anticipated was Mrs. Hughes whispering "You've got this," from the piano so quietly that only she and probably Mr. Carson caught the sound. The noise coaxed a genuine smile from the young woman, as she heard the absolute confidence that her teacher's words contained.

 

And as she delved back into the German piece one last time, she couldn't help but let that confident inspire her to remain steady. Even as her notes soon began to dip and sustain themselves, beautifully floating into the mesmerized crowd, she only felt the warmth of that reassurance.

 

It was time to finish the show.

 

_._

 

Normally, there was no reason to linger after any sort of clean-up had already commenced. In fact, he had to shake off both Beryl and Mrs. Crawley's inquisitions with the flimsy excuse that he wanted to ensure everything was taken care of within the old Abbey.

 

Truthfully, an idea had brewing within him for quite some time, and this felt like it was the only appropriate location.

 

"Elsie," With everyone now long gone, he couldn't refer to her as "Mrs. Hughes".

 

"Charles?" She dryly echoed, with more than an inkling of curiosity in her tone. She had been straightening out some of the chairs that the more rowdy and nervous soloists had been sitting in, turning around to⎯⎯

 

To be met with an outstretched hand and the sounds of Strauss's "Blau Donau".

 

_Their song._

 

In an instance, her memory steals her away to the night of the Winter Ball ⎯⎯ in which two colleagues and friends danced in the comfort of a successful evening.

 

But his hand moves slightly, hoping to intertwine with hers, and she's suddenly brought back to the present.

 

Without even a slight contemplation, Elsie finds herself reaching out once more and happily taking the positions that waltzers must. This time, however, the distance between them is far less and the energy is different, almost kinder if not more unguarded.

 

She finds it infinitely preferable to what it once had been.

 

"I've been thinking," He begins after half a minute.

 

"Have you now?" His face beams knowingly at her, recognizing the light tease.

 

"I've been thinking," Charles repeats, fond exasperation delicately tainting his tone. "That we might go down to Ripon, and take a closer look at those shops."

 

Her breath catches, but he's still guiding her so there's no stumble in their dance. The implication is clear, all the same:

 

_I think it's about time._

 

"I think that could be arranged," There's hardly a tease in her voice now, what with the blush and breathy tone threatening to take control.

 

_I agree._


	30. Secret Conversations and Valid Presumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Author's Note: I am so terribly sorry for the inconsistency with updating these last few months. Let's just say that I've learned my lesson: finish writing the entire story before you start posting because life will absolutely, unashamedly get in the way.
> 
> In other words, I've finally got some free time and I am going to make full use of it.
> 
> Moreover, I've figured out a new posting plan that should work with everything going on. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (starting today), I'll post a chapter. Please, hold me to that. And, for those of you who are still interested in this story and are following along, thank you so very much for your patience and consideration - it truly is indescribable how much that means to me.
> 
> And, now, after several weeks of delay, here is the next installment.

_**Sunday, the 28th of April 2019** _

 

" _So, we can agree that," They had met for dinner at his place, continuing their weekly tradition of dinner at one another's respective houses. It had been unintentionally begun sometime after the night on that sofa, but it was something they were more than happy to continue. "We should hold off from officially searching for a ring until after the concert, but we need to inform the administration of our plans as soon as possible."_

 

" _Exactly." He concurred in a heartbeat ⎯⎯ not wanting to have any sort of administrative scandal befall this situation. "This chicken is excellent, by the way."_

 

" _Thank you!" She smiled proudly to herself, pleased he enjoyed it. "I may not have the ability to do a three-course meal, but I like to think I can put something together."_

 

_He chuckled at this, knowing himself to be an amateur cook himself. Decades of living on his own had proven that point time and time again. "Well, if you ever find yourself needing to make a three-course meal, I'd love to help."_

 

" _Just make sure there's no potatoes in sight?" A light tease, intended on playfully recalling the last time Charles encountered potatoes when preparing a meal ⎯⎯ it hadn't ended all that well._

 

" _Just make sure there's no potatoes in sight." He chorused knowingly, before the pair dissolved into laughter._

_  
~-~_

**Monday, the 29th of April, 2019**

 

"Mrs. Patmore, did you see Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson today?"

 

"Haven't had a chance to, Mrs. Bird. Why?"

 

"They seem... different. I don't know how to explain it, really."

 

" _Different", eh? Wonder what that means._ "Mrs. Bird, if there's one thing I've learned about those two, it's best to leave them alone. Much better for your sanity that way."

 

"I see."

 

_._

 

_Different_  was certainly one way to describe the couple now entering the administrators' domain, though  _nervous_  would probably have been more apt.

 

"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, what brings you here today?"

 

For once, the choir director was too on edge to properly answer one Violet Crawley. His colleague, on the other hand, knew better than to speak on his behalf when he was this uneasy.

 

"Mr. Carson? Mrs. Hughes?"

 

See, normally Charles would be all for discussing any sort of matter with Mrs. Crawley. Truthfully, she was the easiest of the administrators to converse with. It was just a matter of the conversation that needed to occur ⎯⎯  _that_ was where he was struggling currently.

 

"Mr. Carson?"

 

He had no shame in the subject. Rather, it was the fact that he didn't know how Mrs. Crawley would react to their official news. After all, he still recalled the indecorous situation involving Miss Walker, Mr. Wright, and the broom closet. Moreover, even if she were accepting of their relationship, he knew that accepting their marriage was another subject altogether. And the fact of the matter was simple: if the administration ⎯⎯ namely, one Violet Crawley ⎯⎯ didn't accept this change in circumstance, it wouldn't matter what Cora ⎯⎯ who technically had the official say ⎯⎯ or students thought: they would have to rethink the situation altogether.

 

Elsie, on the other hand, was keeping her thoughts to herself for a slightly different reason. Officially, it was to give her colleague and soon-to-be-fiancé breathing space. Unofficially, she was flustered over the fact that they were finally speaking up about the matter and she needed a minute to compose herself. Now, it wasn't that she was afraid to confess the reality of the situation. She could easily tell -the whole administration about her relationship, right here and now. There were only two problems:

 

1\. She was not the one with over a decade of experience at this school and the one whose reputation was most at stake if this went pear shape.

2\. She loved said person, as well as their work together, too much to carelessly shout this from the rooftops. This needed to be done carefully and considerately, not just for the sake for his sake but also for the sake of the choirs.

 

Now, maybe a few months ago Elsie could have walked away from her position if it meant she got to marry Charles ⎯⎯ though that's not all that likely. In any case, it was obvious now that she couldn't just walk away, that she had to see if she could keep this relationship  _and_ her position at Downton Academy.

 

And, luckily, Charles was of the same opinion.

 

"Carson?"

 

As though he were a butler at a grand house, the choir director snapped to attention at the regal command embedded in the terse question.

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Crawley, I was distracted⎯⎯"

 

"That much is obvious. What is not as obvious is what precisely has been distracting you." It had been muttered in a distasteful tone, one that was fixated on investigating this anomaly as much as it could. Truly, Violet seemed far more interested in this than anything else at the moment, which was not a good sign.

 

"Oh, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes! What brings you here?"

 

Never before had they been so relieved to see Cora Crawley.

 

At least, never in the last week. Honestly, the woman had saved them both in conversations on more than one occasion. And, even if Elsie didn't hold her in the highest regard and Charles thought her to be a tad too American for his liking, both choir teachers were undoubtedly grateful for her heroic presence.

 

"We have a fundraising update, Mrs. Crawley, as well as a few other matters involving the choirs."

 

"'Other matters involving the choirs'? How reassuring," Cora sent Violet a frosty glare at this, even though her own demeanour reflected a similar feeling about the phrasing. "Right then, shall we step into my office?"

 

_._

 

"Mrs. Patmore, have you seen Mrs. Hughes today?" Beryl internally scoffed as this was the  _third_ time today she'd been asked about the whereabouts of Elsie.

 

"No, Miss Thorn, I'm afraid I have not." She refrained from snipping at the woman, but just barely.

 

"Oh, I see." The English teacher looked a bit disheartened by the lack of information, as though the band director was somehow the keeper of the choir teacher. "Well, if you do see her, please let her know that I have a question for her."

 

Beryl nodded curtly, "Is that all, Miss Thorn?"

 

The woman bristled at the unashamedly blunt tone, "I believe so, Mrs. Patmore." Then, as quick as she approached the music instructor, she turned on her heel and departed.

 

"Right." And with that, the woman carried on toward the band room.

 

Though, now she really was curious as to where Elsie was. After all, classes were going to start in just a little while and with everyone asking it almost felt like she should be concerned.

 

_._

 

"You mean to tell me that you intend to officially engage in a relationship, together?" Cora's eyebrow had risen quite a great deal over the course of their conversation, possibly at its highest peak by this point.

 

"Well, Cora," It was still strange to call the woman by her first name, but if that's what was requested then that's what would occur. A look passed between the pair, as they silently debated just who would be spilling the tea on this matter. They had wanted to start first with the fundraising news, but the look on her face told them that would not be acceptable.

 

So, now, it was just a matter of getting the official announcement off their chest.

 

"That's not quite the entire story."

 

The administrator remained respectfully silent, inclining her head in a fashion that informed the couple that they had permission to continue.

 

_._

 

_Maybe I should text Elsie just to see if everything's alright,_ Beryl's fingers hovered over her phone as she thought the matter over.

 

But, something told her that the last thing her friend needed right now was a text message.

 

_._

 

"You not only intend to engage in a relationship, but you also intend to be  _engaged_?"

 

Elsie and Charles nodded quietly, knowing now that this was the moment to keep their thoughts to themselves. They had briefly explained their story, informing her that this was something they had spent quite a good deal of time debating on because they understand the significance behind this decision.

 

Though, there was one more thing to add before they could let her decide anything.

 

"There is no official date decided. Yet, whatever date we decide, it will not be during the school year."

 

Cora gave them a brief nod, signalling that it was time to fall into a respectful silence and let the administrator make her decision.

 

_._

 

_Right. I'll send in a text in fifteen, and then if she doesn't respond I'll see if I can go on break during my lunch._

 

With the band concert coming up a few days before the choir show, now was not the time to take breaks and chat with friends. Still, her gut feeling said that it was important to text Elsie and check in at some point today.

 

_._

 

It had taken Cora Crawley a quarter of a minute to compose herself and a further quarter to figure out her official answer. But, before she uttered any sort of response, it was clear how she felt on the matter. It was an opinion she had held for quite some time already.

 

"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes," She squashed down the urge to snort at the habit of saying "Mrs. Hughes", all things considered. "Let me be one of the first to congratulate you on this decision. Since I know you are both incredibly professional individuals who will not allow this to get in the way of your teaching, I see no reason for you not to proceed. And though I hardly think you require Downton's permission, I am very grateful you asked for it."

 

_She said yes._

 

_She actually said_ _**yes** _ _._

 

The news took a few seconds to hit the pair, as the adrenaline that accompanied with this sort of moment overwhelmed them. Happiness soon gave way to unadulterated joy as a freeing  _legato_ of delight came over the couple. Charles was bursting with delight that Cora was willing to support them while Elsie was simply relieved that it was officially cleared with the school. For if Cora gave them her approval, then no one ⎯⎯ not even Violet Crawley ⎯⎯ could officially object. Oh, there could be hissy fits from the parents about the decorum of the matter, and the older woman could indeed give them a harsh lecture about it. But, with Cora's approval came official consent from the school.

 

"Thank you, Cora." Both teachers repeated, indescribably grateful for this.

 

She nodded, rising to her feet to officially congratulate them via - much to Charles's surprise - a brief hug. Even more surprising was the fact that he managed to not make the interaction as awkward as he felt it was.

 

"Now, was that all?"

 

"The only other news we have to share is that we will be able to take twenty-five students to Chicago, Cora." Elsie eagerly shared, her eyes excitedly twinkling in light of this newfound acceptance.

 

"Oh, that's great news! Which reminds me: were you looking for chaperones?"

 

"Well, now that you mention it, Cora," Elsie began, having an idea as to what the administrator was about to suggest. "We will probably need an additional one or two chaperones, though they will have to pay for themselves."

 

"That wouldn't be an issue," The woman reassured her, "But, tell me more about what this would entail before I say anything else!"

 

_._

 

Violet Crawley had long since deduced what brought the two choir teachers down to the domain of the administrators, having predicted this development for quite some time. She had even mentioned it to Cora in passing, making it clear that the choir director's loyalty - and that of his fellow colleague - was evidently strong enough that they could be trusted to maintain their program regardless of their marital status.

 

Still, she had a reputation to maintain. So, when Charles Carson eventually emerged from Cora's office to drop by hers, with Elsie Hughes staying in the vicinity to make sure all was well, Violet merely arched an eyebrow in order to stop any awkward babbling from the man. It was understandable that he'd be in the middle of an adrenaline rush, considering what her daughter-in-law had most likely told them, but she had no need to involve herself in any sort of emotion or, worse still, sentimentality.

 

Nevertheless, just because she had no interest in becoming overwhelmed with emotions or sentimentality did not mean that she could not congratulate a fellow staff member and friend.

 

"You may enter, Mr. Carson," She primly informed him, grandly rising to her feet as he stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. But, before he had a chance to say anything else in response, she

 

"I presume congratulations are in order then? Not only was the fundraising a success, I hear, but I also gather that you are to be engaged?"

 

She had never before witnessed Charles Carson lose his professional demeanour. His jaw hadn't quite dropped in her presence, but his eyes had widened and his hands did indeed fidget against his jacket. Which, in her book, meant that he was rather taken aback to say the least.

 

Then again, there was always a first. And this was a first she was rather pleased to witness.

 

"Congratulations are indeed to be in order, Mrs. Crawley," He managed to say, still floored by her knowledge. "And I am to be engaged to Els⎯⎯ Mrs. ⎯⎯ Miss Hughes."

 

"Yes, well, Cora would have been a fool to say otherwise." And with the office door closed, only he would be witnessed to that blunt statement — much to her amusement.

 

_._

 

While Elsie waited for Charles, her phone vibrated — signalling a text had just arrived.

 

_**Everything okay? — BP** _

 

The choir teacher smiled to herself, quickly replying.

 

_**We told the administration about the engagement. — EH** _

 

Within seconds, she got a response.

 

_**AND? — BP** _

 

Elsie couldn't help the snort that escaped, glancing in the direction of the clock. With only fifteen minutes before classes began, they didn't have a lot of time.

 

_**We'll talk later and I'll tell you everything, promise. — EH** _

 

She then proceeded to pocket her phone, knowing that now was not the time — much as Beryl undoubtedly wanted an answer.

 

_._

**Thursday, the 2nd of May, 2019**

 

"So, now you've told the Crawleys and they're completely fine with everything?"

 

Even though texts had been sent back and forth eventually, neither woman had the capacity for true free time until this moment. In other words, Beryl was going to grill her until the next bell had rung and she had to run back to class.

 

"Yes."

 

"And now you're not only allowed to marry the man you love, you're now registered to compete in the States together?"

 

"Yes, well, registration wasn't quite as simple as that," She confessed, a scowl forming at the memory. "There was a small debate on what type of choir we should register  _as_."

 

"Oh, do tell!"

 

Elsie's eyes flicked in the direction of her friend, clearly not amused as she recalled the argument.

_**~-~** _

_**Tuesday, the 30th of April, 2019** _

 

" _Mrs. Hughes, while my opinion of the genre may have altered over the term, we are not registering as an_ a cappella  _choir."_

 

" _But, surely when so much of a repertoire is_ a cappella  _it would make the matter easier? Thirteen songs are far easier to choose from than two." And that was just off the top of her head, there were certainly more_ a cappella  _pieces than that._

 

" _We have more than two pieces with accompaniment!"_

 

" _And how many of the others are in the range of both our male **and** female singers, Mr. Carson?"_

 

" _Yes, well, as you know, we will only require the knowledge of four songs in this instance. It would be quite easy to select two additional pieces, one of which could indeed be_ a cappella  _if we must."_

 

" _So, between 'You are the Music', and 'Bright Morning Stars', which should we get them started on perfecting after auditions? And which additional songs are we to teach after the concert?"_

 

" _Well, I suppose-"_

 

" _Of course, 'Vox Populi', 'Water Night', 'Somewhere', 'Candle on the Water', 'It Had To Be You', 'Dashing Away', 'Il Bianco', 'Esto Les Digo', 'Africa', 'Dulaman', 'Don't Stop Believing', 'In My Life', as well as 'Set Me As A Seal' are all_ a cappella  _and in the range of a mixed choir, I'm afraid. But, as you yourself just said, we couldn't select more than one_ a cappella  _piece if we're not to register as an_ a cappella  _choir."_

 

" _Yes, well,"_

 

" _Yes, Mr. Carson?"_

 

" _I will have to think on the matter before we make any further decisions."_

 

_She didn't laud over the fact that they were eventually going to be registered as an_ a cappella  _choir. But she certainly did not hold back an eye-roll. What was clearly the logical opinion —_ _as much as it seemed to pain her colleague — was registering as an_ a cappella  _choir. Why he couldn't just agree, after all of this time, escaped her._

 

_~-~_

**Thursday, the 2nd of May, 2019**

 

"It took more discussion than I'd've liked to get him to agree," Elsie confessed, "Considering the logic behind registering as an  _a cappella_ choir."

 

"And it was  _only_ because of the logic that you wanted them registered as  _a cappella,_  eh?"

 

"That's quite enough of that cheek, thank you!" She sighed after a moment, recalling the main conversation. "Honestly, with the amount of effort it'd taken, you'd think this was day one of working together."

 

"Are you really surprised that it did that much effort?" Beryl retorted, "This is Mr. Carson, after all."

 

"Yes, well, you'd think after two semesters of enjoying what even he has admitted to being an  _enriching_ genre, he'd be more willing to give it a go."

 

Beryl outright snorted at this, "Once again, Elsie: This  _is_ Mr. Carson, after all. He may have changed a bit, but he's still the stubborn person he was eight months ago."

 

Her friend shot her another look at this, highly unimpressed before allowing herself to gradually dip into her own snorts and snickers.

 

"I suppose you have a point."

 

The band director gave a dramatic gasp at this, holding a hand to her heart.

 

"Elsie Hughes finally admitting that someone else is right?" She cackled, "Where's there spare pen and paper? I need to mark this one down in writing!"

 

"Oh, very funny, Beryl!" The choir teacher dryly retorted, once again hardly impressed.

 

"Oh, and speaking of marking things down, when's the date?"

 

Elsie paused, tilting her head in confusion.

 

"'The date'?" The choir teacher repeated before worriedly continuing, "You know the date for the competition is the 5th of August through the 12th. You are still able to chaperone, yes?"

 

It was Beryl's turn to scoff in disbelief, even as the band director realized her friend was truly oblivious to what she was really asking for.

 

"Of course I'm able to chaperone! I'm talking about the date for the wedding, Elsie!" Understanding broke out across her friend's face at this exasperated explanation.

 

"There's been no time to figure out a date, Beryl, what with the concert and the competition right around the corner. It'll have to be sometime next year, that's the only thing for certain." That didn't sound reassuring, but the woman was willing to let that go in favor of a different priority.

 

"Well, has he at least bought a ring?" She eyed Elsie's left hand curiously, noticing she wasn't wearing any rings.

 

"We're going to buy a ring  _after_ the concert."

 

"'We'? 'After the concert'?"

 

Elsie paused a moment, hoping that some sort of interruption would save her from giving any further explanation to her friend. But, after half a minute of silence, it became clear that her luck for the week had already run out.

 

"Look, Beryl, we can't simply ignore our priorities as teachers. The concert will have to come first, if not the competition as well." The other woman shrugged at the sound of that, not fully convinced they couldn't at least figure out some of the details.

 

"Alright. So, what's this 'we' business?" This brought more of an exasperated smile to Elsie's face, as she was reminded of a conversation she'd just had with Charles.

 

"We're going to shop for the rings together." She held up a hand to delay any immediate protest, continuing, "I've already gone through all of this before, Beryl. And, this way, if we look at rings together, he won't feel worried about getting it right." She kept out her hand to continue stalling any immediate protest, carrying on. "And, simply put, I'm getting to be at an age where I don't need to be spoiled by such things. I was all for buying a simple band or even just getting a wedding ring —  _he's_ the one who insists that we go out and get proper engagement rings."

 

"I see." And though Beryl did somewhat understand where her friend was coming from, that didn't mean she bought the notion that it was going to "spoil" her or any such nonsense.

 

"Do you now?" Elsie had a hard time believing that her friend on that front. Nor could she really believethat the woman was going to let the matter go.

 

"I do indeed." And, in all honesty, Elsie was right: Beryl was not going to let the matter go.

 

But, the band director knew better than to badger her friend about it.

 

Rather, it seemed like it was time for her and Mr. Carson to have some sort of conversation about everything….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! We'll be back to our normal broadcast of drama and music, but I just had to devote a chapter to this. Be sure to keep an eye out for another update this Monday. And if I haven't posted anything by 11:59pm PST, you have complete permission to PM me about the matter!


	31. Harmonious Exercises and Ringing Enthusiasm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One note about the students - since they're all younger than they'd be in canon, I'm giving them some leeway in regards to their skills. For instance, Edna isn't quite so clever in regards to manipulation even if she has some of the same intentions/desires.
> 
> Also, a note/reminder about the school: it is British in regards to location and faculty. It is American in regards to scheduling. There are other things as well, but those are the main reminders.
> 
> And, finally, a note about choir directors and teachers: they sometimes feel they must do the silliest of things to motivate their students. You'll see what I mean….

**Friday, the 3rd of May, 2019**

 

Although garnering the school adminstrators' approval toward the relationship of one Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson was a highlight of success, the choirs of Downton Academy were not out of the woods just yet.

 

As with any part of life, even the successful moments can have inklings of trouble.

 

_._

 

"You know who's been weird lately?"

 

Thomas glanced over at his companion, having been distracted by useless trivia on his phone. It was one of his guilty pleasures, and he'd honestly take trivia over memes any day.

 

"Who, Andy?"

 

The tenor nodded in the direction of the teen discreetly walking through the hallway, distracted by her phone:

 

Edna.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Judging from the look Andy held, this was going to be something far more interesting than trivia, that's for sure.

 

_._

 

Oblivious to her surroundings, and knowing that the inane twitter of these teenage idiots in these hallways would mask her phone call, Edna let her emotions get the better of her as she continued to chat with her dear friend about a frustrating problem.

 

"Are you sure we can't get away with stealing the funding? It's the one thing they won't shut up about." She complained into her phone, not in the mood for holding back her thoughts about this. She'd heard all about the "lucky fundraising" for the choirs at least five times already, and it'd been a few days since the announcement.

 

_~-~_

_**Thursday, the 2nd of May, 2019** _

 

_She'd watched the two teachers unwillingly, acknowledging that there was an irritating amount of happiness in their faces — which could only mean "great news" for the choirs._

 

" _Students," The choir director had gotten everyone's attention within seconds, "There is an announcement we would like to make."_

 

" _We're all ears, Mr. Carson!" Someone cheekily responded from the men's section, causing her to scoff in disbelief. The level of immaturity the most advanced choir in the school contained was astonishing._

 

I'm surrounded by idiots,  _she thought to herself as the choir director exchanged looks with his colleague before continuing to speak._

 

" _Due to the excellent fundraising that every single one of you helped with," Hughes began to cheerily speak, maintaining a level of seriousness even in her stupid delight. "We will be able to compete in the States this summer."_

 

_Edna rolled her eyes at the joyous uproar that took over the class. Really, they couldn't have pieced that one together on their own? Clearly it was going to happen, with everyone going on and on about how important it is to fundraise._

 

" _Now, students- students!" The choir director raised his voice over the unnecessary calamity. "We can only take twenty-five students, and we have decided that_ _ **every**_ _choir will have a chance to audition."_

 

_That shut them all up immediately, much to Edna's unabashed delight. This silence continued on for a blessed few more minutes as Carson continued to talk about the audition process and the fact that they'd raised enough money, no student would have to pay for themselves._

 

" _These auditions will, of course, take place after the concert. And there will be required rehearsals throughout the rest of the semester as well as after the school term has ended."_

 

" _Mr. Carson, where will the competition be?" Rose piped up from her seat, obviously interrupting the choir director without a second thought. "And when will it be, for that matter?"_

 

" _The competition will be held in Chicago." Hughes informed her, looking quite excited about that fact. "And the competing choir would be there from the fifth of August to the twelfth…."_

 

~-~

**Friday, the 3rd of May, 2019**

 

Honestly, it'd been sickening to watch the excitement build. And with each encouraging word the teachers gave every student - when  _obviously_ not everyone was going to be able to compete - Edna found herself disgusted.

 

" _You know that we don't know enough about technology not to get caught."_ Her friend's knowing tone on the other end reminded her.

 

"I know that — I'm not stupid, you know!" She was normally all for keeping her emotions under check, but this idiotic situation was making it difficult to do so.

 

" _But you know what we could do?"_

 

"What's that?"

 

" _You remember talking about old Carson's paranoia?"_

 

Of course she did! It had cracked her up to know end when she found out about this little secret of the director's, especially considering how stupid it was.

 

"Of course," Edna responded, "It was just like yesterday when that all happened…"

 

_~-~_

_**Tuesday, the 30th of April, 2019** _

 

_She had no real reason to be in the second fourth floor at this hour, other than to shamelessly eavesdrop and see if she could gather any information for her personal gain. It'd been a habit to drop by at random points during her lunch period, open one of the doors just enough to catch the conversation inside 402, and listen for anything useful._

 

_Well, one day it paid off._

 

" _I take it the nightmares have gone away?" Hughes asked, in what sounded like genuine concern._

 

" _At the very least, I haven't had one in weeks."_

 

" _No stage floodings?" He shook his head. "And no other cause of destruction?"_

 

" _None, whatsoever." The relief was evident, but Edna didn't care._

 

_She backed away, a smirk on her lips as she snuck out of the second fourth floor. That little tidbit of information told her something important, and she needed to relay it to her friend as soon as possible. This was something undoubtedly useful, something they could exploit even if they didn't actually do anything._

**~-~**

**Friday, the 3rd of May, 2019**

 

"You don't mean-" Reigning in the  _mezzo-forte_ of shock, "You don't mean to tell me you actually think that we could do something to the auditorium?" Edna whispered over the phone, not daring to speak too loudly for fear of being overheard. She was surrounded by idiots, true, but there was no risking someone accidentally catching wind of what she had to say.

 

" _That's exactly what I think."_

 

_._

 

Charles had been dismayed to see that his Bass choir looked quite defeated as they trudged into their seats today. It shouldn't have been the case, seeing as how it was a Friday and not a Monday, but it was still true: they looked as though they were zombies disguised as teenagers.

 

"Mrs. Hughes," He was drawing a blank as to how to shake off the stilted air of exhaustion, but she normally knew how to work with this sort of thing. "Would you be so kind as to lead the warm-up today?"

 

She scanned the crowd of tired teens and turned back to her companion, a smile brought on by the challenge before her.

 

"I'll do you one better, Mr. Carson: I'll take over the rehearsal for now."

 

He looked a bit confused, but was willing to let her take the lead — taking her normal spot at the piano.

 

_._

 

Andy could not have heard her right.

 

"Believe me, you're not imagining that I just asked all of you lovely gentlemen to lie down on the ground." Their choir teacher proceeded to prove her point by demonstrating just what it was she wanted them to do: lie flat on their backs and keep perfectly still.

 

He heard a choked noise from Mr. Carson at this. Though whether the man was freaking out about her being on the floor or not, at least she was wearing trousers and not her occasional skirts. And even if Mr. Carson was in fact freaking out about the matter, the other guys had no qualms about following her lead and lying flat on the floor.

 

Once everyone was settled, still bewildered but willing to follow along, "Now, Mr. Carson, if you'd be so kind as to play the normal tonic and we'll start with our normal scales exercise."

 

Needless to say, there was already a difference in their voices — let alone their energy — when they began their normal exercises. Singing from the ground was quite a different experience than singing in their seats. There was no chance of slouching, no possibility of slumping in his seat with his back set up this way. His body was lined up quite probably as it was supposed to be in the first. And as he started singing the scales, Andy realized that it all already sounded ten times better.

 

_._

 

"Now, ladies," Elsie was getting a little weary as she noticed a familiar problem with Bel Canto. "No one can deny your knowledge of your music,"

 

The girls smiled a bit, though many still retained expressions that spoke of burn-out. One of the issues that Elsie had noticed accompanying many students these days were the ridiculous academic and social expectations. Consequently, even though the term still had about a month before they were out for the summer, her ladies looked more exhausted than they had when Mrs. Butte was at her worst.

 

"It's the energy, the  _enthusiasm_ , that I'm afraid we're lacking in." Faces plummeted at this, as she knew they would. "But, I do believe I have a solution for that."

 

She could feel Charles stiffen from the piano, sensed his mind perking up from more than a little suspicion. His suspicion couldn't possibly be from the fact that her last words had smiled coyly at her students, hinting that things were about to get enjoyably unorthodox.

 

Unfortunately, her ladies were still too tired to notice any hints of unorthodox singing exercises. So, it looked like it was up to her to rouse them up.

 

"Ladies, who here has heard of a shake-off?" Only one person stilled in recognition, and that was Charles. The rest were oblivious to whatever it was she was proposing. "Well, then. In that case, I would like you all to stand up and follow my lead - you, too, Mr. Carson!"

 

They all did so without question, even Charles, though the slump in many of their shoulders and the downcast gazes did not diminish. Course, Rome wasn't built in a day and neither was an energized choir.

 

"Now, I want you to follow my movements throughout this entire exercise and count up with me," Not giving them a chance to argue or question her command, Elsie lifted a hand and began to vigorously shake it as she counted up from one to ten. Once that was finished, she switched to the other hand and began to count up again. After that, she switched to her right foot and repeated the count before doing the same with the left.

 

The woman then went back to her right hand and started to count up from one to nine, all the while keeping a steady eye on the students. Suffice to say, there was a change.

 

At first, none of the young women seemed terribly invested even as they followed along. More like they all looked a bit confused and bewildered. But, when they caught sight of their choir director dutifully following along his colleague's instruction - and looking rather out-of-character for it - they couldn't help but dissolve into their own giggles, snickers, and snorts over the movement, now willing to pretend to take the whole thing a bit more seriously if only to make fun of the situation.

 

As they finished counting up from one to five, Elsie stopped them - noting the fire had begun to return to several of the singers. Posture had become more active, heads stood a bit taller, and hearts looked to be a little lighter. Life was coming back into the eyes of the singers, as everyone felt freer than before. They looked like her ladies again and less like a group of defeated individuals.

 

But they were not done just yet.

 

"Now, we're going to continue the exercise while  _speaking_  our lyrics. This is where it gets a bit tricky." A little twist in the normal exercise, Elsie had a feeling her ladies could keep up with the change. "We're going to start with 'High Flight' and, remember, I want you to only _speak_  the words with me."

 

A gradual nod broke out amongst the young women, curiosity beginning to brew at the concept. Elsie raised her right hand, waiting for the others to follow her lead. Only once they did so did she start them off again.

 

"Oh, I have" Switched to the left hand, "Slipped the surly" Now the right foot, "Bonds of" And now to the left foot, "Earth. And danced the" And back to the right hand, "Skies on" Left hand, "Laughter's silvered" Right foot, "Wings."

 

By this point, she stopped the exercise and allowed the participants to burst into tickled laughter and energized giggles. It may have felt silly throughout every single second, but it got the blood and enthusiasm flowing once again.

 

Especially when the Bel Canto singers realized Mr. Carson was going to do everything they were doing.

 

_._

 

If Bel Canto was burned out, they had no classification for the Concert choir. These were young students who, upon entering the classroom held taut energy and muted awareness. With a deadened air now sliding into the room, there wasn't even exhaustion to work with. There was numbing tiredness, a detached weariness that was desensitized to practically everything.

 

Suffice to say,

 

"Mr. Carson,"

 

She didn't want Charles to languish over the fact that his favourite choir was worn past the ground, not when she had a simple idea that could help them.

 

"May I warm up the Concert choir today?"

 

He glanced over at her, having been drawn in by the depressing atmosphere that radiated from the choir. And after a few seconds of thought, she had a firm nod of approval from the man.

 

"Another shake-off, Mrs. Hughes?" He frankly didn't know if he could handle her having them sing whilst lying down again.

 

A smile twisted her lips for a second, one that she shook away for a more serious demeanour.

 

"Not quite."

 

Upon waiting a few more minutes to confirm all of their singers had arrived, the choir teacher began.

 

"Students, we're going to do a few different warm-ups today." They all stared at her, many still disinterested. It was a rarity for Elsie to be warming them up, but frankly they didn't really have the capacity to care. "One of which was a warm-up I learned from an American."

 

That lead-in was intriguing enough to rouse a quarter of the choir out of their thoughts as a few dozen singers latched onto the idea of learning something from the States.

 

"We'll start here," She hit the appropriate piano key with ease, "With the men singing an octave lower. We will then go up from there."

 

Simple enough indeed. But, of course, this next part was where she knew she'd have a bit of fun.

 

With as straight a face as possible, "The words for this first warm-up are, 'Chester Cheetah chewed a chunk of cheap cheddar cheese'."

 

Eyes bulged, eyebrows raised, and Charles even gave a snort - disguised as a cough - of disbelief from the piano.

 

"If you'd be so kind as to start us off and follow along in the respective octaves, Mr. Carson." His hands went over the correct piano keys completely on auto-pilot, his brain clearly still recovering from the warm-up at hand. But, already, the barest of smirks and the slightest of grins were fluttering out throughout the choir as they began. And with those reactions came tiny hints of enthusiasm.

 

And, yes, even Mary Crawley was taking this warm-up rather seriously.

 

_._

 

When Claire Morris had entered 402 for class, she'd not intended everyone seeming on edge. Or maybe they were all just really happy. Either way, it was weird to see her peers so excited for a class most of them took to get out of art.

 

"Maribel, what's going on?" Maribel Diaz, a fellow soprano and kindred spirit, looked over to her classmate equally as confused.

 

"Mrs. Hughes is giving each choir really cool exercises," Alyssa Cummings, Maribel's best friend, quickly explained over the chatter. "And—"

 

But before she could say anything else, Mrs. Hughes was already ushering them to their seats — looking as pleased as everyone else.

 

"Ladies," The three sopranos gave their full attention to their favourite teacher, "We're going to play with our scales today-"

 

"Mrs. Hughes," Isabel Johnson smoothly interjected with a raised hand, "Will we be lying on the ground when we sing today?"

 

Mr. Carson looked horrified at the idea, but the woman in question seemed to be seriously considering it. After all, it was one way to ensure healthy posture and solid breathing, even if the floor was not the most dignified.

 

"It all depends on how this first exercise goes, Isabel," She answered candidly, getting more attention for her cryptic response. "Now, we will be running through our scales. However,"

 

And with a big grin of her own, Claire leaned forward in her chair and couldn't help but fully listen to whatever Mrs. Hughes had to say.

 

_._

 

"You really were rather brilliant today, Elsie," Charles had honestly been impressed by her alterations and additions to their classic exercises once he'd gotten over his initial shock. Movement, changing the vocal warm-ups overall, it all worked so delightfully in persuading their students to legitimately sing past their exhaustion today. Not to say that everyone's exhaustion should be swept aside, but it also certainly shouldn't take over the atmosphere of the second fourth floor.

 

"Why, thank you, Charles," She definitely carried a blush within her cheeks, her eyes gleaming with pleasure at hearing his compliment. "It certainly made a difference."

 

He nodded, pleased that the change in energy seemed to resonate throughout the rest of the day. What had started as just another day trying to coax energy from worn down students had transformed into revitalizing moments of performance.

 

"Shall we call it a day then?" Now that the a cappella rehearsal concluded, it was certainly as good a time as any to head home.

 

"I think we shall," And without another word, Charles quietly offered her his arm — as though this were an everyday occurrence.

 

Elsie turned in her chair at the movement, tilting her head in disbelief. This was the same man who had agreed — logically so — that it would be best to keep any sort of affection out of the public's eye for the time being. This was also the same man who took several months to feel comfortable sitting together on a  _sofa_ in the middle of a storm.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

If any students saw them, which was almost a guarantee even at this time of day, the school would catch wind of this relationship. And there would be no more chances to keep it entirely private, something that she knew would impact everything.

 

Charles stared directly at her at the question, knowing in every fiber of his being that this was the right decision. That, much as he was nervous to see how his students' would react, his relationship with Elsie was truly more important than any potential backlash. And this was something he'd been wanting to do ever since she confessed that she would one day want to marry him.

 

"I have never been so sure of anything." It was an echo of her sentiment from weeks ago, but it was also more than an echo: it was the truth he carried and the truth he was now comfortable with showcasing to the world.

 

Elsie held his gaze in silence, absorbing the words for the fact they were and savouring this candor. And when she was ready, the woman gradually reached out to gently lock arms - to firmly connect in this fashion.

 

"I take it we will be telling the students on Monday?"

 

He nodded, firm resolution guiding the action.

 

"The students will be informed on Monday."

 

And whatever may come next, they would be ready.

 

Though, there was one last thought that came to Elsie's mind as she glanced down at her left hand. One last thought before they could leave the sanctuary that was the second fourth floor.

 

"You do realize that it isn't very traditional to announce an engagement before procuring a ring?" She hardly minded, having had enough of traditions the first time around. However, he did seem a bit flustered and almost disappointed with himself at the thought.

 

"I know it isn't proper," That was what bothered him the most about this, truly. Not anticipating the students' reactions — which produced a minefield of nerves all of its own — "But, what with the concert and paying for the remaining portion we couldn't fundraise," His justifications trailed off at the sight of her forgiving smile.

 

"Charles," She softly sighed, fond of his frustration and feeling a bit sorry it couldn't go the way he wanted it. "There would have been no way of going about this properly. The administration had to know, and we both know the students would have accidentally found out long before we were able to choose a ring. And, if the students are allowed to create their own stories about the matter, we won't have any control over reality.

 

"I personally would much rather have no ring and have everyone know the truth than withhold the facts of the matter for far too long." And it made sense: with such an intense semester as the one they were finally wrapping up, it made no sense to hand their students another wave of drama to weave into a sea of gossip and mystery.

 

"I understand. But, Elsie, about the ring," It was another aspect that bothered him, though not nearly as much as not going about the whole matter properly.

 

"Yes?"

 

Charles paused, mentally fumbling with his words more so than normal.

 

"It's just that, while I understand looking through the shops together," It would help stay within budget, and there would be no unpleasant twists when it came to a selection, "I really would like to go about that part properly."

 

In essence, he did want to surprise her in some fashion. He wanted to pay for the ring himself, to create some sort of scenario in which he could propose to her, to  _properly_ kneel down and officially ask the question he'd been wondering for quite some time now.

 

"Charles,"

 

The man's eyes had been drilling a hole into the floor for most of his thoughts, but he found himself unable to look away from her - not when his name sounded like that. Though she did seem surprised by this declaration, there was something in her eyes that told him he could trust whatever she was going to say next.

 

"I could not  _and_  would not expect anything else."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Such cutie patooties, am I right?
> 
> Next up, the week of the concert! Who's ready to begin to wrap up the final show of this sweet sequel?
> 
> And, finally, I have sung those warm-up words, I've laid down on the ground before in the name of singing, and I've found shake-offs to be incredibly helpful in general. Definitely would recommend all those exercises to shake things up, whether it's for singing or for life in general.


	32. Invisible Engagements and Investigations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the day of the concert - who else is excited? :)
> 
> On a side note, I realized a symbol I'd been trying to distinguish flashbacks with doesn't show up on FFN (*cue exasperated sigh that holds no fondness*). Therefore, I think it's best if we just stick to general italics to represent the flashbacks.
> 
> Also, in the fair amount of years I've been doing this, I have seen fellow choristers act with these varying levels of excitement, anxiety, frustration, sass, etc. when it comes to these sorts of announcements. Moreover, their thoughts and beliefs don't necessarily reflect reality (Looking at you, Mary Crawley!). You'll see what I mean!

 

**Tuesday, the 7th of May, 2019**

 

He had been furtively making his way through the school, careful to avoid his choir director at any cost. It was nothing personal to Mr. Carson; rather, it was the understanding that this is concert week and concert week is when any director worth their salt is on edge more so than normal. Now, it's true that the choir director now apparently had an engagement to look forward to, which the young bass had  _not_ seen coming in the slightest. But that didn't mean the older man's first priority was his duties to his choirs before anything and anyone else.

 

It was with that rationale that he'd come to an awkward stop on the stairs. For he could make out the unambiguous sounds of carefree laughter from a flight or two below. Carefree laughter that shouldn't have been coming from the people it came from, not by a long shot.

 

"Well, Mrs. Hughes," See, it was coming from his choir director ⎯⎯ the very person he was trying to avoid.

 

The very same person who was only a short distance away.

 

"I do have to insist that Lauridsen's version is truly superior to Gjeilo's, even when a phone goes off in the middle of it all?"

 

"Oh, do you now, Mr. Carson?"

 

Bewilderment mingled with horror ⎯⎯ why was Mr. Carson so happy? Why did Mrs. Hughes roll her 'R' more than normal? Had they forgotten which week it was? ⎯⎯ and delayed him in his escape. And by the time the young man registered that he needed to get a move on, it was already too late.

 

"Good morning, Alfred! And how are you today?"

 

It's not the fact that one of the sternest staff members of Downton Academy was beaming at him during what should be the most stressful week of the spring semester. It wasn't even the fact that this encounter felt as unreal as witnessing Mrs. Butte frolicking through the halls and offering flowers and biscuits to every student she saw.

 

It's the fact that they were  _holding hands._  And even though that kind of came with the territory of apparently being engaged, it didn't mean Alfred was expecting it. He also wasn't expecting Mr. Carson to look so relaxed and weirdly at ease, and Mrs. Hughes ⎯⎯ was he supposed to call her Mrs. Carson now or whenever they got married? Because that'd be just beyond weird ⎯⎯ didn't look too stressed herself. And it was just  _so weird_ seeing his choir teachers look so happy. Yeah, they announced their engagement yesterday, but that didn't mean he was prepared for  _this._

 

_**Monday, the 6th of May, 2019** _

 

_They had awkwardly sat in shock at the sound of the announcement, not daring to believe what was just said._

 

" _I knew it!" Someone muttered in the back while another classmate boldly asked, "You're being serious, right?"_

 

_Alfred was too distracted to catch who asked that, but it was the question on everyone's mind and someone was brave enough to say it. Though, if this all were some prank, then all of this would be even weirder because Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes just didn't do pranks._

 

" _Quite serious." The choir director replied, prompting many heads to swivel in the direction of Mrs. Hughes._

 

" _You're sure?" They asked her, as though they didn't trust Mr. Carson._

 

" _Never been so sure." She coolly responded, smiling as they observed that the comment seemed to trigger a response in the man ⎯⎯ causing him to look at her all funny._

 

" _Now, with that being said, don't think that we'll be slacking on rehearsals. It is the week of our concert after all."_

 

_Several students nodded in agreement, almost everyone more than happy to let the matter go._

 

_And that was that._

 

_Or, at least, that's all that that encounter would hopefully be for one Alfred Nugent._

 

**Tuesday, the 7th of May, 2019**

 

And though that had been that, that didn't mean Alfred was incredibly embarrassed to see them being a couple  _in public._ Especially during concert week, of all times ⎯⎯ he was nervous enough as is.

 

Alas, "Well, you better get to your first period! I would hate for you to upset your teacher," She teased in his general vicinity while Mr. Carson just chuckled at the irony of it all: the Bass Choir  _was_ Alfred's first period and this was just getting more and more awkward by the minute.

 

"Right. Cya in class!" The young man scurried up the stairs, having forgotten anything else he intended to do that morning and deciding to just bolt towards class. Their resounding laughter, one that was light and still oddly free, trailed after him and continued to remind him just how weird it was that his teachers were not only dating but they were also  _engaged_.

 

_._

 

Fascinatingly enough, Alfred Nugent's experience with his voice teachers was not the only memorable one of the day.

 

For it seemed each choir still needed to process their teachers' announcement from the day prior.

 

_._

 

Daisy looked dreamily off into the distant at the sight of her teachers as they both came into sight. Every time she thought of just how romantic it all was, she couldn't help but remember how the announcement went down yesterday - it was all so very sweet.

 

**_Monday, the 6th of May, 2019_ **

 

" _As you may have already heard, we have a special announcement today." Mrs. Hughes had informed them at the start of class, having the look of someone who knew it was best to just get this over with. Daisy had heard no such thing, not even from Mrs. Patmore. But judging from the fact that Mr. Carson was looking at his colleague with a terribly fond look, she couldn't help but be interested._

 

" _What is it, Mrs. Hughes?" Ivy asked curiously, getting shushed by other girls for her audacity. Though, really, eighty percent of the class was curious themselves, if they were being honest. The other twenty percent were either sick or people Daisy didn't want to be friends with._

 

" _Well," The older woman paused a bit, sharing a look with the man at the piano before turning back to the students, "Mr. Carson and I are engaged to be married."_

 

_Silence attempted to reign for the first few seconds following this simple declaration, but was soon overthrown by gleeful shrieks, surprised squeals, and thousands of questions!_

 

" _Where's the ring, Mrs. Hughes?" "When's the date set?" "Are we invited to the wedding?"_

 

_Variations of the above questions popped out of every corner of the room, though that didn't stop them all from hearing a very bold "If you hurt her, you will regret it, Mr. Carson!" from Ethel of all people. Though, soon enough, the whole class was nodding along with her and staring down the choir director in anticipation of his response._

 

" _I have no intention of doing any such thing." He informed them, resolved in this matter. They nodded once again._

 

" _Good!" Ethel declared while Mrs. Hughes murmured an exasperated, "Don't I have any say in the matter?" Before trying to shoo them back into focusing for the concert._

 

_Course, she should've known better than that._

 

**Tuesday, the 7th of May, 2019**

 

_Yes,_ Daisy thought to herself.  _That's the sort of relationship I'd like._

 

One in which whoever loved her could show it to the world without being obvious. One where she felt herself smiling just by looking at them. Though, mind, she didn't need to be as old as them in order to have that sort of relationship. Nor did she intend on being that obtuse when it came to the matter ⎯⎯ she'd been observing their relationship grow over time and it definitely seemed for a while that nobody was going to make a move in that regard.

 

_Though, I'm pleased that's changed for them._

 

And with a nod to herself, Daisy continued to daydream about the possibilities and enjoy the happiness that was hopefully yet to come.

 

_._

 

Mary Crawley had been on edge ever since she'd heard whispers of some sort of special announcement. With the concert in less than three days, how could it have possibly related to anything else?

 

Well, much to her horror, it had been something else. Something else that was  _vastly_ different and  _highly_ irregular.

 

After all, an engagement? To  **Mrs. Hughes**  of all people?

 

Oh, her classmates were bewildering enough to give a standing ovation when they had officially announced it ⎯⎯ heaven knows why ⎯⎯ but she was shocked by it all. She still wittily managed to ask if any of the choirs would be performing at the wedding ⎯⎯ something that seemed to greatly excited both teachers for various reasons ⎯⎯ but there was still the surprise that came with such an unexpected decision. It was one thing if it were simply that Mrs. Hughes were getting married and would be leaving Downton, but for Mrs. Hughes to be marrying  _Mr. Carson_ was downright unbelievable.

 

"You know what makes me happy?" Matthew softly spoke in confidence to her as she continued to digest the matter for the seventh time that day. She shook her thoughts away, turning to him.

 

"What?"

 

He smiled, captivating the soprano's attention more than she'd like to admit.

 

"Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson," Detecting an eye-roll on the way from her, he continued to explain himself. "Here are two people that had every right to carry on in their lives and let their feelings for one another remain only feelings, not actions. And yet, they chose to live for one another and turn those feelings into actions." Her resolve faltered a tad as his smile grew. "You have to admire them for that."

 

"Do you?" She coldly asked, "When it might distract the choirs from success?"  _Or, worse still, eventually remove the best choir teachers Downton's ever had?_ For surely that would happen, if the two were allowed to be married.

 

"Oh, Mary," He said, only slightly disbelieving of her calculating tone by this point. "Distractions will come whether or not love does. The fact that they felt comfortable enough, that they trusted us enough, to share their good news is admirable. And, I for one am grateful they've given us the chance to see professionals make their living work alongside their relationships, instead of the normal set-up."

 

"And just what is the 'normal set-up', Matthew?" She curiously probed, halfheartedly predicting his answer.

 

"That you're stuck with either one or the other, that you can't have both." He informed her, "But what they're showing is that life really can be led in a simpler way than that."

 

" _That_ isn't the simpler way? Choosing one over the other?"

 

"No, it's not." The tenor continued, "If I've learned anything in the short time I've been around, it's that you will remember what you never gave yourself a chance to do. So, by living a career with the ones you love, you live a simpler life because there's nothing you didn't do."

 

She took his statement in without a trace of outward emotion, though her insides churned at the subject. In her opinion, only he would believe this to be the case.

 

But, somehow, when he explained it like that, his argument made some sense. Still, to be fooled by this reasoning and fall prey to the belief that this wasn't going to go horribly wrong for the choirs was stupid.

 

"I see," The soprano responded, keeping a neutral tone. "I suppose you're right."

 

Though, even though her performance was convincing, he didn't fully believe her.

 

_._

 

"Mr. Carson," Charlotte Williams audaciously approached him at the start of class, "You are still engaged to Mrs. Hughes, yes?"

 

Charles paused in responding, taken aback by the sharp tone. Normally, at this time of year, he was the one with the piercing voice and capability to make others feel rather intimidated.

 

"Yes, I am. Why?"

 

"Then, where's the ring, Mr. Carson?" Isabel Johnson appeared from nowhere, disapproval radiating in her tone. "You're not officially engaged until there's a ring, and don't even  _think_ of backing out now."

 

"Ladies," Elsie came to the rescue of the bewildered choir director, working hard at not rolling her eyes as she did so, "I'm fairly certain that we are to be rehearsing today,  _not_ interrogating our choir director."

 

"We're just making sure he's not shirking his own responsibilities, Mrs. Hughes." Thea Evans informed her.

 

"Let me assure you, ladies," She said as she shooed them back to their seats while Charles was left to wonder how his life had come to this point, this point in which he was being interrogated by his students about his love life. "Mr. Carson could never shirk his responsibilities."

 

"And while we are inclined to believe you, Mrs. Hughes," Isabel interjected herself back into the conversation as Charlotte finished her sentence with an acerbic, "We still don't see any ring."

 

"Well, if you must know,"  _Why is she taking them so seriously? Why not just tell them to focus on rehearsing?_ "Making sure you perform brilliantly is why there is currently no ring. We could hardly go searching when there's a concert in only a few days!"

 

"You can say whatever you'd like, Mrs. Hughes." Everyone began to gape at Claire Morris, one of the shyest women in the class, who flat out stated the truth. "All we hear are excuses."

 

"Yes, well, when you're in charge of 206 students, you can tell me if you still believe that to be the case." The choir teacher retorted with a knowing look, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, we have to polish up a certain 'Candle on the Water' after we warm-up."

 

They all began to settle down in their seats and focus on the actual rehearsal.

 

But, not before one last whisper broke out amongst the crowd.

 

"Just remember, Mr. Carson," He scanned the crowd for the speaker, however, she was too quiet to be heard. "Choir director or not, if you break her heart, we break your neck."

 

And now he  _really_ needed Elsie to get them to start rehearsing.

 

Because whoever had said that sounded rather serious.

 

_._

 

**Wednesday, the 8th of May, 2019**

 

"Are you excited for your concert, Matthew?"

 

Isobel Crawley rarely had an excuse to freely converse with her son during school hours. And seeing as how it was now after school hours, this hardly counted.

 

"Honestly? I really am, Mother." How she wished for him to refer to her as "Mum" or any sweet equivalent. But, wishes or not, she was relieved to hear that enthusiasm.

 

"That's excellent, Matthew! I admit, I'm looking forward to seeing it myself." She confessed, remembering something interesting that Cora had shared. "I do believe that even Mrs. Levinson will even be in town for it."

 

"Mrs. Levinson?" He'd heard all about the woman's infamous interruption with the Bass Choir rehearsal, but hadn't gotten a chance to see her in action. The only time he'd been able to interact with her was at an intense Crawley dinner, where witticisms and dry remarks flew left and right.

 

"Yes, I heard she was supposed to be flying in either tonight or tomorrow." He nodded at this, fascinated by the information. "Though, I suppose we'll be hearing all about it by tomorrow at the latest."

 

They both shared a laugh, remembering just how much Mrs. Levinson's presence impacted the Crawley family. And, since she was only a distant relative of theirs, they so very fortunately weren't as impacted by the woman.

 

Or, at least, that's what they thought.

 

_._

 

"So, they're less stressed than normal?"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."

 

"And they're for sure coming tonight, to our little show?"

 

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."

 

The band director nodded, pleased with this little update. Oh, Elsie could give her the occasional chat but there was nothing like hearing from a reliably unbiased source like Daisy.

 

"Excellent!" She glanced at the clock, not surprised it was already so late in the day. "Well, let's not waste any more time, shall we?"

 

Daisy shook her head, confused by her teacher's throwaway remark when  _she_ had been the one to start the conversation. But, this was Beryl Patmore at her finest, and this was what Daisy had gotten used to.

 

"Of course, Mrs. Patmore." And, so, since the young woman knew who she was dealing with she couldn't really complain.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 9th of May, 2019**

 

"So, we're agreed then? Tomorrow, it'll all be taken care of?"

 

Andy really didn't like the sound of that, but he wasn't sure just what he should do. Eavesdropping on Edna, eavesdropping in general, was not something he was good at. But he hadn't really heard anything officially bad from the teen, even though his gut instinct said otherwise.

 

"Andy?"

 

This was one of the few times that he really wished Thomas hadn't caught sight of him, because he lost whatever it was Edna was saying to whoever was on the other end of the line. But whatever it was that was going on, he'd lost it.

 

And  _that_ did not strike him as a good thing.

 

_._

 

"Mama,"

 

Never did Sybil appear in her office. But, who was Cora to send her off without another word?

 

Even if her daughter was going to be late for her next class….

 

"Sybil? Is everything alright?" The youngest of the Crawley sisters grinned, immediately reassuring her mother that all was well.

 

"Everything's perfectly fine," She said, "It's just that I wanted to make sure you and Papa were coming to the show tomorrow."

 

There was a feeling of deja vú at this conversation ⎯⎯ reminding the administrator of another conversation she'd had this last winter, right before the previous choir concert. Months later, the sentiment was still heart-touching, and she couldn't deny that her daughter's concern was valid ⎯⎯ sometimes Robert and her just weren't able to make it to these things, much as they wanted to be.

 

"We certainly are," This, Cora could guarantee. And with it, she saw Sybil relax a bit.

 

"Good." Her smile grew before she heard a bell ringing in the distance. "Well, I've got to go to class."

 

Cora nodded, "I'd hope class is where you're headed next." But it was only a tease, one that got the reaction she was hoping for: Sybil chuckling, with her eyes glowing with mirth, as she began to quickly head back to class.

 

_._

 

" _Mrs._ Hughes, is it?"

 

Elsie sighed internally, proceeding to give a courteous smile to the woman speaking to her.

 

"How may I be of assistance, Mrs. Gaunt?" She was on edge from preparations, she was tired from the never-ending rehearsals, and she was not in the mood to speaking to a woman who appeared to be a snob.

 

Especially when she still had no idea how Mrs. Gaunt came to ask for her assistance in the middle of the hallway.

 

"Well, you can start by telling your fiancé that we administrators are not mindless telephone operators." Elsie raised an eyebrow, having not clue as to what she was talking about. "And he ought to remember his manners the next time I call him," It seemed the fire alarm incident back in the beginning of the semester still bothered the woman. Or maybe that second complaint was related to these repeat callers. "Though, honestly how you can already be engaged if there is no ring⎯⎯"

 

"I'll be sure to inform Mr. Carson of your request, Mrs. Gaunt,"  _And I'll be sure to do so sometime after the concert, if not sometime after never._ "And, in regards to the ring, that is a long story, I'm afraid."

 

"I'm sure it is." With a beady glare, Mrs. Gaunt tersely bade her a good day and continued on her way to her office. Elsie stared off at her retreating back, wondering how the woman could produce such a snobbish tone with such little words.

 

"Well, that wasn't particularly polite, now was it?"

 

Madalynn Thorn would have been one of the last people Elsie would have predicted saying such a blunt remark. In fact, the choir teacher had to turn around to make sure it was indeed Miss Thorn who uttered the statement.

 

"Yes, well, I'm sure she had her reasons." Elsie neutrally responded, causing her colleague to snort in disbelief.

 

"I have known that woman for more time than I'd care to admit," She quipped. "Mrs. Gaunt certainly has no logical reasons for her behavior." She paused, seeming to shake off her thoughts. "But, how can that be pertinent when I hear congratulations are to be in order,  _Mrs. Carson?_ "

 

"I'll have you know that it's still Hughes," The choir teacher retorted, though her smile dismissed any genuine frustration at the name. Rather, at the sound of "Mrs. Carson", she couldn't help but feel butterflies sweep through her lungs and expand within her diaphragm ⎯⎯ a lovely and disorienting experience to say the least. "But I do thank you for that."

 

"Yes, well, if anyone gives you anymore trouble about the matter, you just let me know, Elsie." The English teacher seemed to straighten up even more at this, "And good luck with your concert - I look forward to witnessing your choral triumphs tomorrow."

 

"Thank you, Madalynn,"

 

The woman nodded briskly in response, "But, of course, Elsie."

 

The choir teacher smiled, pleased that they were coming to this level of camaraderie. It made it easier to be on friendly terms with more than just the administrators and the music department.

 

"Well, I must be off."  _Speaking of music, you've a concert you need to continue preparing for._

 

"Best of luck⎯⎯ I mean, break a leg, Elsie."

 

She chuckled in response, "I'll try not too, Madalynn," and prompted laughter out of her conversational partner as they both began to part their separate ways.

 

_._

 

She'd stood in front of the five-story building with a bubbling feeling of glee, admiring what most people would consider to be terribly "dreary" architecture. To her, it was only misunderstood construction, creation that was normally set aside in favor of frustratingly happy color schemes and designs.

 

Without second to lose, the young woman strode towards Carlisle Institute with a spring of delight to her step. School was long out for both Carlisle and Downton today, so the building would be pleasantly abandoned. And, soon enough, after she passed through what was the school's equivalent of a main office ⎯⎯ an office section far more austere and restrained than what Downton could ever hope for ⎯⎯ she soon found herself heading toward the choir rooms.

 

Though, upon arriving there, a stranger was occupying the space. A stranger who turned around and carefully observed the younger woman as though recognizing her intentions to be rather impure.

 

"Can I help you?" The older woman asked, questioning why a teenager was in the building long after school had finished for the day. It wasn't out of the question, but it certainly was out of the ordinary, especially for such an institution.

 

"Excuse me, Miss," The younger woman quickly scanned the stranger's ID, "Miss Miller, but I was wondering where Mrs. Butte was? She's expecting me."

 

"Mrs. Butte stepped out for a moment to run an errand, I don't know when she'll be back, Miss,"

 

"Braithwaite." She supplied the information, more than happy to state her name. "Edna Braithwaite."

 

"Well, Miss Braithwaite, I'm afraid there's not much point to waiting: she didn't say when she'll be back."

 

Edna politely smiled at this, "Since she was expecting me, Miss Miller, I'm more than happy to wait."

 

"I see." After another moment of clear internal debate within Miss Miller, "And what should I tell her, if you decide to leave before she comes back?"

 

"Only that tomorrow's concert is going according to plan. And that she is, of course, still invited."

 

"And where will this concert be?" The teacher probed, more than a touch curious. "There are a great deal going on in the area that the faculty and staff of Carlisle Institute are expected to attend."

 

Edna hesitated, not willing to part with that knowledge. Mrs. Butte had warned her that her colleagues at Carlisle knew full well of her opinion toward Downton. Though it wasn't smart to lie about this, it wasn't much smarter to tell the truth right now.

 

_If only there was_ ⎯⎯

 

The one phone in the office miraculously rang as though on command, pulling the older woman's focus away. The chorister hid a smirk as Miss Miller turned around to answer it, soon distracted by whoever was on the other line.

 

"Downton Academy, Miss Miller,"

 

Edna Braithwaite muttered vindictively under her breath, relishing in the fact that she could finally admit it.

 

"It'll be at Downton Academy."


	33. Countless Paths and Only One Courtyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _ **General Author's Note:**_  Thank you for patience with this - I totally forgot how much I like to add in concert details and should've remembered to mention it'd probably take an extra day or twelve.
> 
> **Heads Up:** This chapter goes to a darker place before the concert. It's to fix something that I took issue with on the show.  _There's also some stronger than normal language in a spot or two._ I'll take no offense is you choose to skim over that part of the chapter. For reference, that specific section will begin around 11:40am in the story.
> 
> ** First Half of the Concert Song List: **
> 
> **Everyone:**
> 
> \- "Vox Populi" ~~~ Vox Populi (Giedrius Svilainis) - Baylor University Concert Choir 2011
> 
> **Beginning Female Choir/"Treble Choir":**
> 
> \- "Candle on the Water" ~~~ "Candle on the Water Luminesence"
> 
> \- "Songbird" ~~~ "Songbird, performed by Elektra Women's Choir"
> 
> \- "Shenandoah" ~~~ look up "Treble Women's Choir - Shenandoah"
> 
> **Intermediate Female/"Bel Canto":**
> 
> \- "Dance on My Heart" ~~~ "Dance on my Heart Allan Koepke Iowa West"
> 
> \- "Bloom" ~~~ "Philip Silvey's 'Bloom' performed by The Festival"
> 
> \- "It Had To Be You" ~~~ I'm frustrated to say I couldn't find a version of the story's specific arrangement. The closest I could look up included these search terms: "It Had To Be You Solo Voce - Sweet Adelines Barbershop Quartet"
> 
> \- "The Pelican" ~~~ "2010-06 DV The Pelican.m2t"
> 
> \- "Hight Flight" ~~~ "High Flight Montgomery High School Varsity Chorale Women"
> 
> **Advanced Female Ensemble/"Women's Ensemble":**
> 
> \- "I Will Be Earth" ~~~ "Songs for Women's Voices: I Will Be Earth"
> 
> **Thomas's Solo:**
> 
> _-_ "I Attempt From Love's Sickness (To Fly)" ~~~ "I Attempt From Love's Sickness to Fly — Jonathan Blanco"
> 
> **A Cappella Choir / "A Cappella Choir" (After-School)**
> 
> \- "Africa" ~~~ "Africa - Angel City Chorale"
> 
> [please note: all instrumentation you hear will be vocalized in the show]
> 
> \- "Don't Stop Believing" ~~~"Stephen P - FCHS - A Cappella - Don't Stop Believing"
> 
> [please note: the choir won't be quite as dramatic with the choreography]
> 
> \- "Dulaman" - "Anúna : Dúlamán - written by Michael McGlynn"
> 
> [please note: the choir won't be looking that intense when they sing in this story. Furthermore,  **the lyrics are slightly different**  from the version **in the story** , but the message is the same.]
> 
> \- "In My Life" - I honestly couldn't find the arrangement I was looking for in the appropriate key/choir set-up. Therefore, feel free to listen to the original Beatles' recording, read along, or something else altogether!
> 
> **Intermission**
> 
> Now, without further ado, let the chapter begin!

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 06:01am**

Though choir teachers were always in the habit of getting up exceptionally early on concert days, Elsie had already been awake for an hour and that seemed excessive, even in her opinion. Still, she couldn't pretend she was going back to sleep if it'd already been an hour of lying in bed and waiting for her dreams to come back. Especially since she was a responsible choir teacher who usually made absolutely sure not to neglect her choral duties by sleeping in.

 

As though to give her further motivation on the matter, the woman could make out the faint sound of her phone buzzing in the distance — alerting her to a text message. And, judging from the hour as well as the day it was, there could really only be one person texting her at this time.

 

_**Would you be interested in accompanying me to the school today? - CC** _

 

She thought it rather funny he even bothered asking, seeing as how they'd begun to take walks to-and-from the school almost every day now. Ever since the engagement had been announced, they'd both wanted to take full advantage of the freedom that came with it.

 

_**Do you really need to ask? - EH** _

 

And, then, unwilling to resist teasing the man,

 

_**Just walk in whenever you get here, the door'll be unlocked by then. - EH** _

 

She laid in bed a few more minutes waiting, but there'd been no responding text. Assuming that meant he'd scoffed at the challenge and decided not to engage with such a childish tease, Elsie had proceeded to roll out of bed and get ready. All that was required was to get dressed, unlock the front door on the very slim chance Charles took her up on her offer, make a little breakfast, and get her concert attire in order.

 

All in all, a fairly easy morning that'd leave her with essentially nothing to delay her early arrival to the school.

_._

 

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 06:23am**

 

He'd walked up to the front door, a hand almost grasping the handle when he realized how brazen he was acting. Elsie was most likely only joking when she said he could walk in whenever he wanted. Therefore, she'd would undoubtedly take great offense at the action, and quite possibly feel as though he was overstepping his bounds and invading her privacy.

 

With a hand still paused in mid-air, a brain still contemplating what could possibly go wrong, Charles Carson decided to take a step back, regain his bearings, and make a decision.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 06:25am**

 

The steadying beams of daylight flitted into the room as she hummed away, her hands meticulously crafting a rather cheesy, buttered-up omelette. As a choir teacher and not a choir student, she had no qualms about consuming any dairy products — such as cheese or butter — on a day like today.

 

And she certainly had no qualms over the fact that her ears were detecting the opening of her front door. In fact, a beam of pleasure that interwove itself into relief broke out within her face at the noise.

 

"You did say the door would be unlocked," He began in an imperial tone, as she put the oven's flame on the lowest setting before turning to him.

 

"I did indeed," Elsie conceded, unable to deny the outright happiness she felt at the sight of him.

 

Charles took a step forward, not nearly as hesitant about entering her kitchen as he'd been the first time they shared a dinner here. That in itself, along with the fact that he'd taken her up on her offer instead of shying away from stepping in whenever he'd like, was enough for the moment to steal her heart away.

 

They'd come a long way, the two of them.

 

And, she couldn't wait to keep going.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11:37am**

 

"Now, I've got to fix up a few more programs," Elsie had confided in her friend as they walked through the backstage area, "But before I did, I wanted to readjust the piano. It's simply too close to the risers for my liking, though I didn't have time to adjust it during the earlier rehearsals."

 

Beryl nodded, understanding that this would make a world of difference for her friend.

 

"That's easy enough to do," The band director remarked, "Just lead on, in that case."

 

The choir teacher nodded, bringing the pair to the piano in question. The darling instrument was, as she'd mentioned, just too close to the risers for comfort. Not noticeable enough for the audience, but certainly obvious to the pair.

 

"Shall we get to it then?" Beryl asked, situating herself closer to the bentside of the piano — the main curve most people saw. This was to help maneuver the piano when Elsie leaned into its spine and gently pushed the instrument away from the risers. They proceeded to use their respective weights to ease the piano just a little ways away from its original position, the movement sparking memories of previous moments. "At least we know how to make the piano work for us, this time."

 

Elsie chuckled faintly, distracted by the throwaway remark. "Unlike that one time?"

 

"Yeah, I don't see anyone stumbling into baby grand pianos currently," Beryl snorted a bit, "Or failing to move it an inch because they were at the wrong angle."

 

"We certainly had no idea what we were doing, did we?" She asked, a critiquing look starting to etch itself into her face.

 

_Oh, we're not about to have that harsh critique make a reappearance, not now._ Beryl scowled at the thought of the damage Elsie's inner critique was capable of. "Yes, well, I'm fairly certain we knew more then than my drummers did a few days ago, not their best performance."

 

She certainly didn't really think her drummers were bad, she only meant to spark the one reaction she knew Elsie inherently capable of:

 

"Beryl, your drummers were fantastic! All of your students were thoroughly engaged and remarkably talented at their respective instruments."

 

"Even the flautists?" The friend faintly teased, recalling a former conversation of theirs.

 

"Even the flautists," Elsie remarked with a slight grin. "I would say they've certainly improved since I last heard them."

 

"'Improved' have they?" Beryl took the bait knowing fully well what it was. "I'll have you know they're practically perfection compared to your sopranos!"

 

This had Elsie raising an eyebrow, amused. "My sopranos are  _actual_  perfection, I'll have you know."

 

"And very humble, too, I'm sure!" She paused, pleased that her friend had forgotten about harshly critiquing herself for the time being. "Now, I'm fairly certain there was something you needed to do back in 403?"

 

"Oh! The programs!" Elsie was now speaking to herself, "Why do we always forget to triple-check the programs?"

 

The band director inwardly chuckled at her friend's endearing frustration, knowing that this is what she herself was like only a few days ago at the start of her own concert.

 

"Go on then!" Starting to shoo the woman away, "I'll stay here and guard the piano, how does that sound?"

 

The choir teacher nodded, "You go and do that.", with the look of someone who was helplessly stuck in their thoughts. It was clear that she needed to plan out more than the programs if she was bringing this sort of focused energy to the table. And watching the inordinately faraway glaze grow, it was definitely too tempting for Beryl to concoct something utterly ridiculous to see if her friend was truly paying attention.

 

"And while I do that, you and Mr. Carson can follow through on your eloping to Alaska."

 

Elsie hummed in agreement, definitely not catching a single thing Beryl was saying. She once again seemed fixated on something involving the programs, if not another hiccup in today's plans. All in all, this lack of attention implied that it was time to test out a genuine request she'd been dying to make for months.

 

"So, I have your permission to slap Emma Butte in the face then?" It was politely stated, as though Beryl were asking to borrow a music stand for the day. And Elsie almost nodded in agreement before the request registered.

 

"What?"  _Aw, I'd been hoping for another yes._ "And what was that about Alaska?"

 

"Programs," The band director stated, redirecting the conversation with ease. "We'd only been talking about programs, Elsie. I don't know where you got Alaska from!"

 

"Oh, that's right! The programs!" And with that, the choir teacher hurried off through the backstage area and toward the stairwell that'd take her back to 403. She normally wasn't this distressed on concert days, but this an unending semester had the woman reaching her limit. "I'll be back before you know it!"

 

Beryl let out an exasperated sigh at the behaviour, knowing that her friend needed a proper break if she was going to survive teaching in the long-term. But, that wasn't something the band director could tell her outright; Elsie'd never listen if Beryl had explicitly stated as such. No, this was something that would require finesse, and possibly the help of Charles. Though, from the sounds of it, maybe things would sort themselves out naturally. Elsie did mention earlier that they were seriously considering getting an assistant/volunteer for next spring, which was a step in the right direction.

 

Still, right direction or not, there was one issue that was pressing itself into the current moment:

 

The band director looked up at an eerie sound of water trickling down from somewhere, an almost indistinguishable  _drip, drop_ coming from somewhere in the room. It did not sound encouraging in the slightest, and even her trained ears couldn't tell where it was coming from.

 

And, as she looked out into the auditorium, she still couldn't detect where the leak was coming from. All she knew was that it existed. No sign of damage on the walls, no disrepair coming from—

 

The band director did not receive any warning when a six-by-six piece of the ceiling smashed down in the direction the balcony, incessant rivulets of water trailing afterwards and splattering into the surrounding audience seats. The crash caused a faint rumble in that area of the ceiling, the damage from the storms making its presence more and more obvious by the moment.

 

_Oh, dear._

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11:39am**

 

When Thomas had warned Matthew about Edna's unknown intentions, the tenor had someone stationed to furtively follow the soprano throughout her lunch period — fully intent on making sure she didn't try anything. It had been a smart move, making sure they kept her into consideration and giving her no chance to enact any deviant plan.

 

Still, just because they'd been smart didn't mean they had been wise. The lack of wisdom laid in the fact that they didn't take into account any possible accomplices. They didn't realize  _Edna_ wasn't going to do a single thing. That it was her friend — a complete unknown in the situation — who needed to be followed.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11:40am**

 

It'd taken Anna more time than normal to convince John that they should go out to the grassy lawns of Downton today, but she was thrilled when he finally agreed. What with the many inexpensive places to eat in the vicinity, the young soprano wanted to enjoy the full fifty minutes of freedom she had with her friend off-campus.

 

Little did she know, the next forty minutes wouldn't have any sense of enjoyment or freedom.

 

"Do you know who that is?" Anna whispered, looking at the stranger now slithering into the side entrance of the auditorium. He looked about their age, maybe a bit older. And he had to be a chorister if he was going through that entrance today, but she didn't recognize him.

 

"No, I don't. You don't either?" She shook her head, not liking the feeling she got from this. The stranger struck her as someone who was on a mission — and not one she'd care for. "Shall we go investigate?"

 

They should have immediately called a teacher over, maybe even found Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson before continuing. What they decided on, seeing as how this didn't feel right, was to proceed onwards in their curiosity alone.

 

Or, mostly alone, that is.

 

Sending a text to Matthew —  _ **Get Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes and bring them to backstage area. Following someone suspicious. Something's not right. Might go into basement - JB**_  — the pair headed toward the side entrance and waited a moment before silently opening it. As students who'd spent three years maneuvering through this part of the building, they knew how to furtively sneak through it.

 

The stranger, however, was decidedly unaware as to how to be discreet. The pair could catch the sounds of plodding footsteps that clanked and echoed up the stairs leading to the lower level of the backstage area — the person having gone through another door.

 

"Anna," John whispered, concerned. "I don't think we should follow them."

 

"If it's a teacher or student, it'll be okay." She tried to reassure him, her gut instinct informing her that following this stranger was necessary even if she didn't like the situation. "But, even if it's not, I can't leave this alone. You texted Matthew, right?"

 

"Yes, but—"  _But he didn't respond, not yet._

 

"Then we know help is on the way, if it's needed." Anna gave a tentative smile, "Knowing us, we're chasing an engineer by mistake and we'll get reprimanded for coming to the basement unsupervised."

 

John didn't look happy about this response, but he let her open the door leading to the lower level of the backstage area. And, with a growing uneasiness, they proceeded to creep down into the depths of the school — the malodorous smell of old piping, damp air, and constricting dustiness increasing the further they ventured.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11:42am**

 

"Oh, no." Matthew looked down at his phone, his eyes proceeding to drift in the direction of the auditorium. They were all situated in the cafeteria — he, Mary, Tom, Edith, Laura, Sybil, and Rose — having been disinterested in battling for a spot on the lawns with every other student.

 

"What's wrong?" Mary had been in the middle of regaling them all with talks of future auditions for the following year, the year she'd be graduating Downton Academy and going out into the world. But, with her friend carrying a concerned look in his eyes, all audition talk came to a halt.

 

"I think Bates and Anna are in trouble." He confessed.

 

"Trouble?" Rose piped up, more than a little worried. "What do you mean?"

 

He rose to his feet, "I'm not sure."  _But our friends might be in danger._ "I need to find Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes."

 

"You mean," Tom interrupted, " _We_ need to find Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes."

 

"It's probably nothing," Mary said, uninterested in having Tom accompany her and Matthew — for it would be her and Matthew going.

 

"If Thomas's warning was right," Edith inserted herself smoothly, not taking no for an answer. "It's probably  _not_ nothing."

 

"Bickering isn't going to get us anywhere," Sybil complained, standing up herself. "I say a few of us go in search for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, and a few go find Anna and John."

 

"Right." Matthew agreed, "I'll go looking for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes—"

 

"I'll come with you," Mary quickly spoke, coolly bringing herself back into focus.

 

"I'm going to go look for Anna and Bates," Sybil piped up.

 

"Not by yourself, you won't." Mary exasperatedly stated, "It could be dangerous."

 

"Since when has that ever stopped me before, Mary?" But, before her older sister could protest, "Tom will be with me, right?"

 

"Right." The young man agreed, having long since decided he was going to be with her in this search.

 

"What about me?" Rose demanded, more than a little put out that these groups were being formed without inviting her.

 

"Rose, we'll need you to find Thomas and Andy," Matthew said, an idea coming to mind. "They mentioned something about overhearing a plan, they might know more about this."

 

"And what about us?" Edith asked, glancing at Laura. They were the only two at the table that didn't have a task.

 

"Text and find Ellie — she should be watching Edna. And make sure that, if she's involved with whatever John and Anna are investigating, Edna doesn't try to escape."

 

"And just how do you plan on all of us walking out of the cafeteria  _without_ us getting in trouble?" After all, the rule for lunch periods was that students were allowed to go off-campus if they so desired, they just had to make their decisions and be out of the building within the first ten minutes of their lunch period. This was to make sure students weren't roaming the halls unnecessarily, choosing to ditch their classes, or any equivalents. And, as such, there was always a security guard monitoring the cafeteria as well as the surrounding area — to make sure no students snuck out or into the building somehow.

 

"Right." Matthew paused, thinking it all over. "Mary and I will leave first, saying that we want to use the vending machines outside the cafeteria. After a few minutes, Sybil and Tom, you say you think you left a textbook in a class and it's just around the corner."

 

"Well, that takes care of the people in charge of finding Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes as well as Anna and Bates, but what about the rest of us?" Matthew frowned, thinking the matter over.

 

This is when Sybil had the next brilliant idea.

 

"If Mary and you don't text within five minutes, Edith, and Laura will go and ask for a bathroom pass. Then they'll make their way out. Rose, I think you're going to have to use the back entrance of the cafeteria to get to Thomas and Andy — though you should text them so that they know you'll be outside."

 

"Why not just tell the security guard that our friends are in danger?"

 

Mary raised an eyebrow at Rose's naive question, giving her a frosty gaze. "And when he dismisses us, warns us not to try to ditch class, and sends us back to our seats — now paying closer attention than before?"

 

"We don't have time for you to bully people, Mary," Edith complained, "Aren't you and Matthew supposed to be heading towards the vending machines by now?"

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:51am**

 

"Oh, Mrs. Patmore!" Cora Crawley had caught her on the way up to the second fourth floor. "I never got to tell you how spectacular that concert of yours was!"

 

"Mrs. Crawley, I—"

 

"I mean, I've been to the occasional show, but this was absolutely breathtaking." The administrator barrelled on in her excitement, "Using Tchaikovsky's  _1812 Overture_ and then incorporating the confetti to mimic the cannons traditionally used was genius!"

 

"Yes, well, I did spend—"

 

"Of course," Beryl realized after a moment that Cora was unintentionally going to interrupt her every time. This combined with a sense of dread about telling Elsie and Mr. Carson about the auditorium — something she wasn't going to avoid mentioning, but something she didn't like the thought of doing — kept her from rudely cutting off the administrator and carrying on. The administration had to be informed too, seeing as they'd be paying for any damage from the ceiling. But, Beryl  _knew_ the priority was to inform the choir teachers first and foremost.

 

_Maybe I also shouldn't interrupt the woman who signs off on my paycheck,_ Beryl dryly thought to herself as she politely let the administrator continue to speak. It was a bit nice to also be the music teacher receiving the praise for once, if she was being a little more honest.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:43am**

 

"John," Anna had been thinking it over for a bit and knew what needed to happen. This really had been much too suspicious to leave alone, and they were getting nowhere searching the basement."There's too much ground here for us to cover if we want to stop whoever's here."

 

"We don't even know why they're here," He quietly argued, already sensing what she was going to suggest. "What if it's a plumber checking the pipes? An electric engineer doing a routine inspection?"

 

"Why would an engineer or a plumber be lurking about during our lunch period? And, if that's the case, where was his uniform?" Anna combatted his argument easily, reiterating her point again, "I really think we need to split up if we want to stop whoever this is."

 

"But—"

 

"Matthew and the others will bring help, I'm sure." She said, trying to reassure him. "What if that help arrives too late? What if we could've easily stopped something but, instead, we decided to do nothing and end up regretting it?"

 

He scowled at this, still not liking her idea. "It's always risky splitting up, Anna."

 

"Will it help if I carried my keys on me?" She didn't want to dismiss his concern, but she knew they needed to act fast if they were to make a difference. "I could have them ready to scratch someone at a moment's notice."

 

"Alright." John said, not yet won over even if he approved of that safety tactic.

 

"Does that mean I get to take the left and you take the right?" The young soprano asked with a faint smile, knowing that his lack of argument meant he was going to concede her point.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:47am**

 

"But where could he possibly be, Matthew?" She demanded, as they stood in 402 — perturbed by the fact that her choir director was nowhere in sight. Having shouted for the man upon entry, checked the shelves of the music library on a whim, and even called the administration to ask if they'd seen Mr. Carson — Mrs. Gaunt having outright said no and promptly hung up the phone — they were at a loss as to where to go next.

 

"If I knew that, Mary, would I still be here?" Matthew sharply asked, more than just on edge now. Yes, John and Anna might not be in any danger and this could all be perfectly fine. But he wasn't going to risk dismissing the matter only to find out that they were horribly wrong. Not when he already knew Edna was someone of Butte's calibre when it came to ruthlessness — having figured out she'd been the one to insult so many of the soloists among other things. "Look, we don't know where he is and we don't really have time to look, but maybe—"

 

"Are you looking for Mr. Carson?"

 

Mary didn't do feelings excitement or great relief. However, on seeing Mrs. Hughes come in carrying a fair amount of concert programs, she couldn't help but regain a little hope that Anna — and John, of course — was going to be okay.

 

"We are, but it doesn't matter now." Matthew proceeded to get to the point, "We don't know what's happened, but we think Anna and John are in danger, Mrs. Hughes."

 

"What do you mean 'in danger'?" This frustrated both Mary and Matthew, as they'd hope she wouldn't look quite so incredulous and simply take them for their word.

 

"We're not sure!" The soprano confessed, a harried energy taking hold of her words. "All we know is that they've notice someone suspicious going into the backstage area of the auditorium — possibly the basement — and decided to follow them. And they haven't responded to any of our texts since then."

 

"But, why not inform the administration or the security guards?" Mary outright scowled at this, not in the mood to debate the matter when Anna was quite possibly in serious danger.

 

"Who's going to believe us, Mrs. Hughes, on such flimsy evidence?" She acerbically flung the words at the woman, knowing them to be true. "We're 'only teenagers', after all."

 

"Yes, well,  _I_ believe you. And, because I believe you, I want you to stay here and phone the administration as well as the police."

 

"Where are you going?" For the choir teacher was already rapidly making her way to one of the exits in the room. "To find Mr. Carson?"

 

The teacher's first thought was to make sure Charles was nowhere near this — if only to keep him out of possible harm's way. This was accompanied by the fact that, if this were actually nothing, it'd be a pointless distraction that would only add more stress to his plate. However, as she continued to think the matter through, she thought about what she would want if their roles were reversed. If it were up to him to decide whether or not she'd be told of this potential issue involving students, what would she want him to do?

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" But, her hands were already getting out her phone and dialing a very familiar number. She could hear Mary shush Matthew as the phone began to ring, fortunately only taking a few rings before it was picked up.

 

" _Elsie? Is everything alright?"_

 

"Mr. Carson," She was relieved that he seemed to be alright, judging from his voice. "There appears to be a problem."

 

" _And what seems to be the problem, Mrs. Hughes?"_ She smiled a bit through the stress, thankful she could rely on his professionalism even in the face of this.

 

"Anna and John spotted someone suspicious entering the auditorium just a few minutes ago. They followed the person, possibly into the basement. I myself shall be going there myself to see what is going on, but—"

 

" _I'll be right there."_

 

She nodded to herself, hanging up the phone and turning to her students still eavesdropping on the conversation.

 

"Do you promise me you'll not go running into danger, Mary, Matthew?" Their teacher sharply asked them.

 

"Do you promise not to do the same yourself?" Mary boldly countered, not giving into the older woman's request.

 

"As I'm not sure just what will be waiting for me, I cannot honestly promise anything." She bluntly informed them, not in the mood to beat around the bush. "But I can say that if you call the administration and the police from here,  _and_ stay out of trouble, there will be far less danger for us all."

 

"We can do that," Matthew spoke for Mary, not wanting to risk any further argument while Anna and John might still be in danger. Elsie nodded, turning on her heel to swiftly start her journey to the auditorium.

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" The soprano quietly started to speak one last time. Her teacher paused in the doorway, inclining her head in the direction of Mary as she patiently waited. "Be careful. And try to keep Mr. Carson safe."

 

"Of course." She softly spoke before shaking those sorts of thoughts away, "Now, let me get on. And remember to call the administration and the police!"

 

With that, the older woman turned on her heel and proceeded to leave them behind — determinedly striding on toward her next task. They turned to each other for a second, debating on what to do next. But, after a moment of instruction — "Matthew, text the group that Mrs. Hughes is heading toward the basement and Mr Carson should be joining her." — Mary picked up the only phone in 402 and dialed for administration.

 

"Hello, Mama?"

 

With any luck, the danger would be minimal and there'd be no reason for the police. But both were in silent agreement that it was far more important to overreact in this situation than the reverse.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:50am**

 

Whoever the stranger was, she had managed to find him soon enough. And, much as she dreaded, he looked to have ruthless intentions.

 

"But, which pipes to damage, Alex?" Anna could hear him mutter to himself snidely, "The choices are  _much_ too many and they don't all lead to the stage."

 

She stumbled in her step at this, the heel of her shoe accidentally scraping against the floor and calling attention to her.

 

"E?" He called out coldly, unamused, "I thought I told you to wait 'till  _after_  I called you. Why are you down here, anyway?"

 

Anna froze, her clutched keys long since forgotten as her heart sped up far past  _moderato_ at the apathetic voice. Whoever he was, he was only around the corner — which meant that she had to quiet down her panicked breathing in order to avoid detection.

 

"E?"

 

Reaching into the depths of her mind, trying to summon any sort of breathing technique she could have picked up from choir, Anna inched herself away from the young man — now knowing for a fact that this was no engineer.

 

"You're not E!" An animalistic growl, one far closer than she could have imagined, pierced her ear as the stranger came out of nowhere. She inadvertently gasped at the sight of such apathy in his eyes, feeling as though she were being cruelly stabbed with his snarl even though there was no knife in sight.

 

"But," He continued, with a disgusting quality to the word that told her this was not going to end well. "I think this could be a bit of fun."

 

Alex Green proceeded to lunge out at the shaking young girl in front of him, this idiot who managed to get in his way. She gave a shriek that sharply reverberated through the corridors of the basement, managing to disorient him enough to let her the first girl to actually dodge his attack and somehow escape his grasp.

 

Dropping the spanner he'd clenched so firmly just seconds ago, Green gave willing chase — a smirk eagerly distorting his features as he began to pursue her. Through the many darkened and dilapidated portions of the area, he easily could make out her ragged breathing, knowing that she wasn't cut out for this and she'd be falling into his clutches soon.

 

And though this little bit of fun hadn't been on his agenda for today, it'd more than make up for her stupid interruption.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:52am**

 

"Mrs. Hughes?" Tom had not expected to have their choir teachers join them so quickly. After all, they'd only found John wandering the corridors of the basement a few minutes ago, the baritone having somehow ended up going in a circle. "Mr. Carson?"

 

"So, Mary and Matthew found you?" Sybil asked, so pleased that she had found them. Charles looked at Elsie in confusion, not having been told of the pair's involvement. But, the look she gave him told the choir director she'd tell him everything she knew later.

 

"Mary and Matthew found us, yes. However, we have yet to hear the whole story." Elsie spoke for them both, needing to get to the point of this matter.

 

"Anna and I found someone sneaking into the backstage area earlier," John promptly proceeded to inform her, "We thought it was suspicious and asked Matthew to find you or Mr. Carson while we went to investigate. But, then we split up and now I don't know where—"

 

A ghastly shriek flung itself through the space, interrupting the baritone's report and shoving them all into action.

 

"Anna!" The young man whispered to himself, spinning around to try to see where it came from. But, Elsie and Charles were already hurrying off in the direction they knew it approximated from, knowing they were running out of time to stop whatever was going on and recognizing now that there was indeed danger. Worse still, they had a larger issue trailing after them at the moment: "You can't come with us! We need you all to stay behind and make sure that security and the police know where to go when they arrive."

 

"Police?" "I'm not leaving Anna, not again!" "We are  _not_ letting you two go after him alone!"

 

The teachers nearly glared at these protests, vexed that these obstinate teenagers of theirs were the ones involved. But it would be better to keep an eye on them in this capacity than try to give them instructions they wouldn't obey. "Then you're all to stay  _behind_ us," Elsie instructed her students while Charles stayed by her side, making sure their respective pace was fast enough to stay ahead of the group.

 

Unbeknownst to the choir teachers, the teens all shared their own looks at this — silently agreeing that they'd follow along for now. But, they wouldn't allow either teacher to play the martyr, not if they could help it.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:48am**

 

"What do you want, Rose?" Thomas asked, definitely not in the mood for more social media campaign favours. Having been asked to pose for Instagram and sing a little for the Youtube Channel, he was already feeling horribly self-conscious. "You wanted to meet up for what, more Instagram pictures?"

 

"I wanted to meet because of Edna." For once, she had no desire to beat about the bush or act coy.

 

"What do you mean?" Andy interrupted whatever Thomas had been about to say, looking worried. They'd just been debating about whether or not they should follow Braithwaite themselves, had been arguing over it right before Rose had arrived.

 

"Honestly? I'm not sure what she's done or how she's involved," The two young men were taken back with her brisk words, the seriousness so very uncharacteristic for their classmate. "But I think Anna and John are in danger, and I think she's the one behind it."

 

"Say no more," Andy put a hand up to stop her, already convinced that she was right even without any proof. "We saw which way she was heading when she was leaving the building."

 

"And just how do you plan on getting out of the  _library_?" Rose had never been here before, making a habit to avoid what she considered a very dull place. Consequently, she couldn't see just how they'd be getting outside from a library situated on the second floor of the building, considering they had to leave undetected.

 

"Oh, ye of little faith." Thomas snarked, standing up without a moment's hesitation. He shared a look with Andy, having done this sort of thing many times together and relishing the fact that they had a moment to show off a bit.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:55am**

 

Alex had managed to corner his latest prey, knowing that she'd gone into a dead end in the darkness — having wound up at one of the many isolating sections of the basement. And while he may not know this school like the back of his hand, he knew when he was about to be victorious.

 

"Don't worry," His frigid note of feigned reassurance was the only sound she could hear, bringing her to a dreaded stop. "I'm sure they'll eventually find you."

 

With her back to him, Alex took a chillingly slow step forward, his smirk morphing into an atrocious leer — one that oozed malice. He knew she truly stood no chance now, not when she was trapped here with no one to hear her scream.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:51am**

 

When Edith Crawley and Laura Edmunds finally made it the outside world, still in search of Edna, they realized there was one issue:

 

Ellie, the friend who was put in charge of tailing Braithwaite, was not responding to their texts. Add to that there were hundreds of students milling about for lunch in the area, as well as quite a few places for a person to hide outside, and there was only one conclusion to be made:

 

This search was not going to be easy.

 

Though, there was a silver lining: "Rose? Andy? Thomas?" "How did you get out of the building?"

 

With the unexpected arrival of the trio, Edith and Laura felt a little better about the situation.

 

Though their arrival that didn't make the task any easier.

 

**_._**

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:56am**

 

Having hurled his arm forward to pin her against the wall in an effort to mark his victory, Alex released a choked gasp at the sharp elbow that now dug into his chest — the young woman having dodged him once again.

 

"Solar plexus," Anna hissed as she completed this action, before proceeding to slam her heel into his foot, "Instep," Over the sound of the wind being knocked out of her assailant, she whirled her right arm into the side of his "Neck," before twirling around to deliver one final blow with everything she had: "Groin!"

 

In no time at all, she found him crumpling into a ball of pain on the floor, her power having finally broken through most of her initial panic.

 

"S.I.N.G., you bastard!" Anna shouted, the adrenaline pushing her voice to slice through the air as her fear began to release itself from the situation. With that shout came the immense -gratuity that she remembered that self-defense tip from the film  _Miss Congeniality._ But, as the stranger groaned in pain, she knew there was no time to gloat over the tip or its usefulness — he was still awake. And if he was still awake, he could still do damage.

 

"Anna!" "Anna, are you there?!"

 

Never before had she been so relieved to hear the voices and footfalls of Elsie Hughes and John Bates, distant though they currently were.

 

"I'm here, John, Mrs. Hughes!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, giving the young man another kick to the stomach to further incapacitate him — she noticed he'd been moving on the floor a little too much for her liking. "And my assailant is, too!"

 

" _Assailant?!_ " Instantly, the steps picked up speed, though now she could tell that there were more than just two people coming her way. And when they all arrived, she was bowled over by the support that had arrived.

 

"Tom? Sybil? Mr. Carson?" It seemed there were more than enough people to take care of any problem now, giving her pause to relax at the sight of the calvary. "How did you all—"

 

But John was far past answering questions. Bolting over to her as quickly as he could, the baritone tightly embraced Anna without a second thought — his cane a shield of sorts as he pulled her as far away from the stranger as possible.

 

"Never,  _ever_  do that again." He whispered, not knowing how the hell he would have been able to cope if she'd been hurt or worse. "We're not splitting up ever again, and next time we're getting an authority figure to come with us."

 

"Or, better yet," Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes interrupted them in unison, inherently disapproving of this reckless behavior, as they guided their students all away from that horrible young man still lying on the ground. "You will allow only the authority figures to do the chasing."

 

"Yes, Mr. Carson," "Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

 

Speaking of authority figures, they could all hear the sounds of security guards approach them. Matthew and Mary, it seemed, had ignored Elsie's instructions to stay in 402 and brought the reinforcements with them. Within seconds, the battle of the basement was coming to an end. And as they all milled about, watching as Green get handcuffed — to be held before the police arrived — one thing became clear:

 

Green was going to go to jail. Whether it was for attempting to assault Anna or for destroying the property of Downton — he had been starting to sabotage one of the pipes when Anna had found him — jail-time was guaranteed to be in his cards.

 

And, now all that was left was to bring him in and see just who this "E" was.

 

Though, in all honesty, every teenager in the basement already had a fairly good idea.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:53am**

 

"So, Ellie's not responding, eh?" Thomas asked, unable to believe that they hadn't been able to find Edna. "And just how are we supposed to track down Braithwaite? Magically stalk her through Facebook?"

 

Rose sharply turned at this, gaining his attention in the process.

 

"Don't tell me Facebook allows for live-stalking now." The baritone grumbled as she started to search for her phone, "And this is why I never use it."

 

"Not Facebook," Laura chimed in, a realization dawning on her face. Rose continued to fervently pull out her phone, summoning the app that would have the information she was looking for:

 

"Snapchat."

 

Thomas raised an eyebrow, utterly lost as Laura continued to explain that Snapchat had a live story map, a feature that allowed you to see where your friends currently were.

 

"You're actually 'friends' with her on this thing?" Andy asked in disbelief.

 

"I'd hardly call it friendship." Rose honestly replied. "More of a 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

 

She had added Edna the moment she realized the young woman was positively manipulative, wanting to keep a general eye on her. Surprisingly, Braithwaite had added her back, probably dismissing her snap request as irrelevant.

 

Well, today, that was quite possibly going to save all of this from getting out of hand.

 

"Ah, yes, here she is!" Rose said, pointing to a spot on the map. "She's hiding out only a block or two off-campus."

 

"So, what are we waiting for?" Andy glanced at the phone, starting to head off in that direction.

 

"And just what do you plan on doing when we find her?" Edith and Thomas jolted at the fact that they were speaking in unison, their respective tones deeply unimpressed with the fact that they didn't have a plan.

 

"Right." The tenor mumbled, coming to a stop. Rose frowned a bit at the behaviour, not wanting her friend to beat himself up.

 

"C'mon," She said to the group, "We'll figure out something on the way over."

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 12** **:01pm**

 

"Elsie," Charles had tried to grab her attention when it was most convenient for them — aka, after the police had lectured all students involved and informed them not to mention this incident to anyone. Since this was before their statements had to be taken, this was probably the only moment he'd get.

 

"Yes, Charles?" In the chatter of the disciplinary office, he felt comfortable enough to call her by her first name. It was also his way of showing just how serious this next statement would be.

 

"Thank you for calling me."

 

_It means more to me than I can say._

 

"You're welcome."

 

_If it is within my power to do so, I will always call you._

 

__.__

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 11** **:57am**

 

"Oh, you are  _not_ getting away!" Rose angrily shouted, running after Edna's retreating form. Having not been able to come up with a proper plan on the way over, Edith and Thomas allowed Rose to opt for approaching Edna and distracting her with conversation while they surrounded her. And, having not spotted Ellie they could only assume that Edna had shaken the girl off her trail, quite possibly being on the alert.

 

Sneaking up on her had worked to a certain extent — they'd gotten to the part where Rose was approaching Edna. But, something about MacClare's demeanour must've set her off, because Edna bolted before Rose could get a word out.

 

"Why do they always run?" Edith irritatedly muttered, sprinting to get ahead and help trap Edna. Andy was approaching from the left, Thomas from the right, while Rose was bolting straight behind her. "And why are there always trees in the way?"

 

They chased her through the denser foliage near the school, the area most classmates did deviant activities of all kinds. Truly, the fact that the quartet hadn't interrupted anything life-scarring in their chase was astonishing in itself. But, what wasn't astonishing was Edna's persistence in trying to outrun them. The worse part was when she started to make a proper escape, darting as fast as she could to get out of sight.

 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Flinging herself with an unexpected boost of adrenaline, Edith tackled her classmate to the ground, not relinquishing her hold for anything. "In fact, I'd give up altogether!"

 

"You don't know anything," Edna outright denied, even as she continued to fight the other soprano. "You're just grasping for anything you've got — Green's not gonna give you proof of anything!"

 

"Rose, Edith, Andy, my friends," Thomas smoothly interjected, fixing Edna with a dark smirk as he coolly approached her — somehow managing not to sound terribly out of breath. "Did we mention anyone by the name of Green?"

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -** **12:27pm**

 

"Mrs. Pat— Beryl, what are you going on about?" The band director had been trying to garner their attention for the last ten minutes, but they'd both had their hands full with trying to reassure the students that justice would be served today. Well, now they were heading back in the direction of the auditorium, as per her request. "What's this about not being able to use the auditorium?"

 

"Yes, well, that's what I've been trying to tell you," Beryl's voice was unusually caustic as she continued to realize the danger her friends and students had been in, "You can't have the show in the auditorium!"

 

"And why not?" Charles sharply asked, confusion permeating his tone. He was still caught up in the fact that they had prevented something incredibly awful. And who knows what would've happened had they been just a little too late or if things had gone just a little differently?

 

"Because of this!" She dragged them back through the backstage area, consideration long since chucked aside in favour of the truth. But instead of taking them through the door that led to the basement, she practically shoved them both into the main stage area — making sure they faced the house, the spots where the audience would normally sit. "It's far too dangerous to perform here!"

 

And she was right. That fallen section of the ceiling was small enough that the school wouldn't have to put too much money to making repairs. But it was large enough to indicate clear damage within that part of the room, proving that this was too dangerous to use as a performance space. And while Beryl really hated watching the air slowly deflate out of both her friends, their eyes stonily taking in the destruction from the ceiling, she knew they needed to know what had happened.

 

"How?"

 

"I couldn't tell you. All I know is that it happened and now we need a new place to perform the show." The bell unsympathetically rung at this point, signalling that they only had one lunch period left to figure it all out.

 

"We should probably just reschedule the show," Charles lowly suggested, looking rather crushed by the sight of the destruction. "Though there's certainly no way the auditorium would be ready for a concert before the semester ended. It might be best to cancel the show altogether."

 

This time, both Beryl and Elsie looked at him in disbelief — fire starting to spark back into the choir teacher's eyes as the band director gape in shock that her friend was being so self-defeatist.

 

"Charles Carson!" The two women spoke in unison, snapping his gaze back to theirs. Elsie continued with, "We may not have our auditorium, but that does not mean we are giving up!" Beryl followed that by, "I know plenty of places we can have the show in the school — the lawns, the lunchroom, the courtyard, the football field, the gym even! We don't have to give up just because it won't be here."

 

"And I'm sure that the administrators would even be willing to let us have Downton Abbey again, what with everything that's happened." Elsie added, though her future husband looked taken with a different idea.

 

"The courtyard." He muttered to himself, thinking it over.

 

"The courtyard?" Beryl asked, now the confused one. Elsie resisted a soft smile at this indirect suggestion, seeing the gears turn in the choir director's mind.

 

"It has fantastic resonance, the audience could sit inside or outside and have the same experience, we wouldn't require mics," The choir director reminded them, "As well as it is the nicest venue on in the school, other than the auditorium." He furtively shared a look with Elsie before adding, "It is also a memorable location."

 

She gave a hint of a blush, biting her lip as Beryl continued on, unaware of their little moment, "And you could even borrow my keyboard if the piano can't be moved outside — my keyboard's wireless, after all!"

 

Charles cringing at this, though Elsie was sure she could convince him of the merits of having the keyboard instead of moving the grand piano by the end of the hour. Cringing and keyboards aside, she found herself starting to enjoy the idea, liking the idea of an outdoor concert finishing off the semester.

 

"Now, it certainly would be unorthodox," He inputted, looking wary if only because of that. "But, if I have to choose between cancelling the show and unorthodoxy, well."

 

In short, even if he had to have the show in the gym, Charles Carson would do so.

 

Well, maybe  _not_ the gym….

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 3** **:18pm**

 

"Students," Elsie and Charles had gathered them all up in the courtyard, knowing that they needed to address this issue of the auditorium. There had been a posted sign of the change in rehearsal location on the entrance door — as well as some rope to mark the auditorium as unapproachable. "As you may have seen, there was a spot of drama in the auditorium today." Charles inwardly glared at her for this casual remark, even as he recognized that she needed to keep the atmosphere light.

 

"Unfortunately, a piece of the ceiling collapsed due to the recent storms. And consequently, we will not be able to use the auditorium for tonight's show." He solemnly informed them, prepared for the worst reactions. Gasps broke out among the teenagers, many shocked that such a thing would occur the day of their performance. It was terrible luck, that's what it was.

 

"Now, settle down," The choir director silenced them with this command, refocusing their attention. "Just because the auditorium will be under repairs for the time being does  _not_ mean that the concert will be canceled."

 

The air became recharged with confusion as well as curiosity, the young ladies now thoroughly intrigued. Never before had the concert not been in the auditorium. And, seeing as how much of a traditionalist Mr. Carson was, they had all naturally assumed that the show would be rescheduled or, worst, cancelled.

 

"In fact, we've already decided on the new location," They all craned their necks, the suspense killing them as Mrs. Hughes gave herself a decent  _fermata_  for dramatic effect. "Here."

 

Whispers broke out again, much as the two teachers knew they would. After all, how could a group of any sort of individuals take such surprising news in silence?

 

"You mean we're to perform in this courtyard, Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson?"

 

"That is exactly what we will be doing." Charles responded, speaking on her behalf as well as his. He gave everyone only a few seconds to digest that, before continuing. "The program will continue unaltered, we will still have risers. There are only a few differences: you will wait inside the building until it is time for you to perform. There will also be no curtains to shield you from the audience, so you will all have to be vigilant about your cues."

 

They continued to explain the distinctions of this space before having each choir briefly run through each song. Students still needed to prepare and eat dinner before the show, so it wasn't a full rehearsal — simply a walk-through of the new set-up and a chance to hear the new sound qualities in the courtyard. This way, the singers all had a general idea of what their voices would sound like in the space.

 

And by the end of the run-through, it was clear that this was going to work. They all adapted fairly smoothly to the new venue, the sound balance was great, and everyone — choir teachers and students alike — were easing up on their stress. All that was left now was for everyone to get food and get changed into concert attire.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 5** **:39pm**

 

At the sight of her concert dress, the black one she'd been convinced to purchase for the last concert, Elsie couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. They were about to pull off what should be a magnificent show, they had stopped Green and Edna from destroying the day, and she was about to perform with loved ones.

 

Moving to change within the stacks of the music library, Elsie made sure she was far enough within the shelving units that no one could easily see her should someone come into the room.

 

But, of course, "Mrs. Hughes? Are you in here?"

 

She glanced exasperatedly in the direction of the speaker, "Mr. Carson, I'm currently a little busy right now."

 

He walked toward her voice, hesitancy coloring his next words. "Is everything alright?"

 

"Everything is alright, yes." She lightly informed him through the shelves, hearing his footsteps approach. "I am currently in a state of undress."

 

_That_ halted his steps. "Oh, I see." It was awkwardly spoken, bringing an amused smile to her face.

 

"And while I'm not opposed to your seeing me in this state," Elsie continued, knowing that this candour would stun him, even with the steps they'd clearly advanced already, "I'm not entirely sure it would be appropriate at this time."

 

They were in the school, after all. And while she was feeling rather mischievous, she didn't think it'd set a good example for any student to walk in on. Moreover, judging from the type of silence he was falling into, she could only assume that he was still shocked. Quite possibly horrified by the brazen situation in itself, if she were going to make a guess.

 

"Relax, Mr. Carson," Elsie teased, unzipping and slipping her concert gown on. "My virtue is safe and I am only teasing you."

 

She could hear his sigh of relief and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped as she continued to zip her dress up. Though, there was one little issue still snagging her focus.

 

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Hughes?" She had yet to emerge from behind the shelves and a professional like her would have done so by this point.

 

"Well, now that you mention it," It was with a sheepish tone that she walked closer to the edge of the shelves, still remaining out of sight. "It would appear that my zipper is stuck."

 

"I beg your pardon?" He couldn't have heard that right.

 

"Believe me, Mr. Carson, I have never experienced this problem with this dress before." Elsie dryly informed him, "But the zipper is stuck and I seem to be unable to fix it."

 

He quietly stood only a short distance away, perpendicular to the shelf that was shielding her from public sight and quietly processing the matter.

 

"Of course, I'm sure Beryl's still in the building if you want to call her." She offered, not only now feeling a little insecure about the matter but also not wanting to put him in a delicate situation. Since they were in the school, and their concert was almost an hour away, he would no doubt feel as though it would be distasteful to involve himself in this wardrobe malfunction — especially as the choir director.

 

"I would be honored to help, Elsie." Having not anticipated that response, her breath caught. This may not be the most risqué situation she'd been in, but it certainly was quite risqué for him.

 

"Alright. I'll step out in just a moment—"

 

"No, I'll come to you."

 

Little did she know, Charles had been wanting a reason to hold her ever since she called him about the backstage situation. They hadn't a chance for any sort of private interaction beyond their short conversation in the disciplinary office. And, with how the situation had turned out, he couldn't help but be eternally grateful nothing else had happened. The thought that it could have been Elsie who chose to investigate instead of Anna, that Green could have somehow harmed her in an attempt to escape, didn't escape his attention. And these horrid thoughts had persisted in revolving around his mind all day.

 

"You can always close your eyes and I can guide your hands to the zipper, if that will help with the awkwardness." She pitched the idea, feeling a bit silly for suggesting it, but knowing that it could help mitigate the tension.

 

"'Awkwardness', Elsie?" Charles turned the corner, taking sight of her back to him. Holding up the front of her dress with her hands, she was leaving titillating hints of her back exposed to him. And just as it had the first night he'd witnessed it, the lace blended seamlessly into tulle, nicely hugging her form even when it wasn't fully zipped. He came to a stop, unable to refrain from admiring the beauty before him, thankful to have this moment. "Is that what you find this to be?"

 

It was true that he'd been hesitant to step toward her and see her in a state of undress. But, unbeknownst to her, that hesitation was due to an internal battle of principles versus preference. On the one hand, he wanted to finally see what she looked like in such a state and very much wanted to take in this alluring surprise. On the other hand, he did not want to invade her privacy or fling her virtue out the window just because of a desire.

 

Helping her with a zipper, however. That was a different situation altogether, one in which he had a purpose. One wherein he had permission to and could allow him to gaze upon his future wife,  _and_ he had a perfectly valid reason to do so.

 

"Well, surely a choir director has something better to do with his time, what with the concert only—" Her voice came to a still as she felt his hands on her back, coming to rest on her shoulders.

 

"There's nothing else I'd rather be doing." The confession was murmured for only her ears, the words sending entrancing chills down her spine. She stilled, her heartbeat picking up pace as the zipper was gradually pulled to its proper height. And though she was far less exposed now, it felt as though he'd zipped the gown in the reverse direction seeing as how there were goosebumps trailing alongside the zipper.

 

Elsie turned around, facing him and noticing the clear adoration in his eyes, never quite seeing that level of admiration since Joe. And, still, there was a difference in Charles's gaze, something that caught her breath. Fighting the urge to blush at the unusual attention, she bit her lip and breathlessly held his gaze.

 

"Mr. Carson? Mrs. Hughes?" She gave a hushed sigh at the sound of Jimmy opening the door and poking his head into 402. Even though the moment was essentially ruined, a childish part of her wanted to remain silent and pretend as though they weren't in the room so they'd be left alone. And then possibly be able to pick up what had been interrupted. But, after continuing to meet Charles's eyes, it was clear that they would feel far more guilty about ignoring their student than they would coming out of the shelves.

 

"Guess not." Jimmy decided, unintentionally starting to leave before they had a chance to respond. "All I wanted to know was when doors opened for the show, anyway." And before they knew it, the young tenor was already shutting the door and heading off somewhere else.

 

"He ought to know by now that doors always open at six o'clock," The choir director grumbled to himself, having been more distracted by the question than the interruption itself. "Not only have we been saying it for a week, he's been a part of the choirs for two years now."

 

_Only two years and this is how he acts?_ "We shouldn't assume they'll remember all the details, Mr. Carson." She lightly warned him, recalling many times in which she'd forgotten something like that.

 

"The timing of the concert is something they wouldn't know after two years?" Exasperation highlighted his tone, before a hint of sheepishness began to trace it over. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being a bit crabby but—"

 

"You're being a choir director," Elsie interjected, not wanting him to feel self-conscious about his expectations. "It makes perfect sense."

 

But those words didn't really seem to reassure him. Rather, his gaze was soon downcast before looking back at her, insecurities just lying out of sight within his demeanour.

 

"I'm not just a choir director to you, am I?" She looked at him quite seriously, wondering if they needed to shop for rings even sooner if this is how he felt. And after the morning they'd shared, in which their walk had been delayed for reasons that were decidedly  _not_ platonic or work-related, she thought he'd feel just a tad more secure about their relationship.

 

"You're not just a choir director, Charles," He began to smile a bit. "You're  _my_ choir director." The smile fell instantly at her tease, the man more than a little off-put by the quip.

 

"Elsie," But, she put a sweet-tempered finger to his lips, silencing him not unkindly.

 

"Charles," Feeling a bit exasperated by his insecurity, and wanting to alleviate any lingering doubts, she rose to her tiptoes, dropped her finger from his lips, and gave him a gentle, brief kiss. "Do you suppose I have ever done that with another choir director before?"

 

"I'm sure you've silenced many a choir director before, yes," He facetiously spoke, feeling more reassured and far more willing to tease. She rolled her eyes, a traitorous smile playing with her own lips.

 

"I'll have you know," Elsie had started to speak, but he was already pulling her back into another, firmer kiss.

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:01pm**

 

Charles may have been clever and sweet when he suggested this be the location for the show, however, the students had been absolutely brilliant in not only adapting but giving them ideas as to how to improve the show. Over the course of the few hours it had taken to officially move the show, she'd been given a fair amount of fantastic suggestions.

 

The first, of which, was soon to be implemented.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Once again, Charles insisted that she start off the show. Though, this time, it was less about his miraculously taking to the stage in a Santa Suit and more about the fact that this was her  _forte_ of music. "Thank you for being so adaptable this evening — we know this is quite unusual setting for a choir concert!"

 

The audience laughed good-naturedly at this, still having no clue as to why the concert was being held here — even if it made for a pretty sight. Though, as she continued to announce the order of events, explaining just how the night was to proceed, they soon found they didn't care — it all added up into an exciting show.

 

"And, now," She glanced up at the sky, confirming that it was time. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the choirs of Downton Academy!"

 

Yet, there was only the Treble Choir standing in front of the audience, having been standing there for quite some time. Someone awkwardly coughed at this, still not sure as to where the whole 'choirs of Downton Academy' came in, even as Elsie was raising her hands to conduct them all.

 

" _Vox populi!"_

 

Several people jolted in their seats, necks suddenly craning to the sky and realizing that the choirs had all taken charge of classrooms surrounding the courtyard. Since the building of the academy boxed in the courtyard — the purpose to create a secluded and pleasant feeling overall — each choir had taken hold of a few unoccupied classrooms lining the perimeter of the courtyard, opened as many windows as they could, and sang from every possible angle.

 

" _Vox Dei!"_

 

It brought a whole new definition to "surround sound".

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:11pm**

 

As the crowd roared with approval over their opening number, the students no longer needed in the courtyard retreated into the school, preparing themselves for their respective songs. And it was with a great beam of delight that Elsie met the gazes of all of her young ladies, waiting for the audience to finish applauding before starting up the next piece.

 

Glancing at Charlotte, who had been the designated pitch pipe holder for this, Elsie gestured to her to play the pitch for them — letting the sound of the  _F_ pitch wash over her as she readied herself for Candle on the Water. Flipping through conductor's binder, the binder that contained every song she'd be conducting tonight, she found the appropriate page and raised her hands once more.

 

And when they were ready, she sent her girls swirling through their respective " _Lu"_ s, setting the stage for the gentle piece.

 

" _I'll be your candle on the water,"_

 

They crescendoed effortlessly, the chords magically pouring themselves over the crowd as her Treble ladies carried their notes through.

 

" _My love for you will always burn._

_I know you're lost and drifting,_

_But the clouds are lifting!"_

 

As though the composition were the clouds parting in the twilight sky above, the singers gave their voices to this tender message of hope.

 

" _Don't give up,_

_You have somewhere to turn!"_

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:13pm**

 

Charles listened faintly from one of the unused classrooms of the first floor, knowing that he wouldn't be required until "Shenandoah" — which was still approximately five minutes away. And, because he didn't need to be on stage just yet, he could take a second to observe. Still conducting "Candle", Elsie looked as entranced with conducting as the audience did with listening, as he knew would be the case.

 

" _Look for me, reaching out to show,_

_As sure as rivers flow,"_

 

The heartwarming piece was just what he needed right now, still caught up in what had happened in the basement earlier. She had called him, yes, and nothing had happened to Anna, this was true.

 

But it could have been worse. And knowing that Elsie could have easily gone down to the basement alone, possibly endangering herself in the process, made it hard to let that go. Though, speaking of letting go of things,

 

" _I'll never let you go."_

 

The choir was charging through what she always called the "tag" of the piece — though he'd always refer to it as the coda.

 

" _I'll never let you go."_

 

There seemed to be a ripple of sound this time around, something that captivated his attention thoroughly. Here was hoping that this ripple grew into a stunning wave of sound that this particular coda required.

 

" _I'll never let,"_

 

Breathing as one unit, the singers paused only a second before continuing.

 

" _You"_

 

Dramatically pausing once more, the chords preparing themselves to lock one final time, they began to end the piece.

 

" _Go."_

 

As various sections held out their respective notes, while others blended in their own harmonies, he could swear that Elsie's eyes glanced in his general direction. Her blue eyes, now glowing with an exhilaration the sunset complemented quite stunningly, locked with his for only a few seconds — the message was quite clear.

 

She would never let him go, not if she could help it.

 

And all she asked is that he do the same.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:14pm**

 

" _I am a Songbird,_

_I will sing anything."_

 

Cora had been so relieved when Green was captured earlier today. And as disappointing to find out that Edna Braithwaite had conspired with him to spite the choirs and ruin today, it was just as reassuring to hear that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were planning on continuing the show.

 

_"Give me a tune,_

_I will spin you gold!"_

 

And what a show it was becoming! Gorgeous songs left and right with the students were brilliantly coming together in this new space. Honestly, she might to have suggest they hold the occasional concert here instead of the auditorium.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:18pm**

 

As the applause for "Songbird" began to rise to a beautiful level of appreciation, Charles stepped out and purposefully strode toward his keyboard. Would he have preferred a baby grand piano or the proper grand piano in the auditorium? Undoubtedly. Would he have to instead, as Beryl had not-so-gently put it earlier, "Get over himself"?

 

Without any question.

 

Turning on the mechanical contraption with more than a hint of uneasiness — he'd practiced earlier, but still hadn't felt any sort of fondness for the thing — Charles looked over at Elsie.  _Why did we agree to this?_ His eyes asked her, somewhat offended when she rolled her own in response.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," She turned back to the crowd, gesturing toward him. "The choir director of Downton Academy, Mr. Carson!"

 

With more than a trace of mischief in her eyes, she let the audience enthusiastically cheer on his sudden appearance — forcing him to grin and bear the unexpected attention. Yes, well, for all of the moments he'd put her in the spotlight this last year, it only felt fair to do the very same now.

 

Still, Elsie was here for her Treble ladies. And to support them on their last song, "Shenandoah", she gestured back toward them and encouraged further applause before they began. Smiling ever so proudly at her choir, she coaxed happiness in their gaze just by nodding encouragingly and lifting her hands.

 

" _Oh, Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,_

_Away, you rolling river!"_

 

Like old friends joining together one last time, her ladies and her dipped into the lyrics of the piece — smoothly sinking into the splendid depths of this watery song.

 

" _Oh, Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,"_

 

Recalling the moment she had let her voice tenderly ripple through the melodic wave before them in rehearsal, Elsie allowed her hands to reflect the action — triggering the memory and easing her ladies even further — for this next part. The gesture had worked, even though they were still in the starting section of the piece, the Treble Choir was diving further into their respective notes.

 

" _Away,_

_I'm bound away!_

_Cross the wide Missouri."_

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:22pm**

 

Daisy was still recovering from everything she'd heard happened today, even as she followed her choir into the courtyard. She was ever so thankful that Anna had managed to beat up that bad guy, though she really disliked the fact that he'd snuck into the building in the first place.

 

And, now, as they were beginning to sing "Dance On My Heart", one final time — with Mr. Carson as the keyboard and Mrs. Hughes about to conduct them — she couldn't help but feel an even greater sense of relief that nothing else had happened. No one was injured, other than that bad guy Green. And even though they had to switch locations, she kind of liked being outside more.

 

Though, any thought about earlier had to be shoved aside as Mrs. Hughes raised her hands again to conduct them. Because now it was all about — as the choir teacher herself had reminded them all — showing why this ensemble did so well at their competition and why they were going to be even better tonight.

 

Immediately, a warmth came over Daisy as her face reached to match Mrs. Hughes's level of enthusiasm and happiness. She could feel a grin take over her entire face, lighting up her eyes and pulling her energy up to what felt really nice. And it was all perfectly timed too, because she could Mr. Carson's playing on the keyboard — the sprightly tune helping to maintain her feeling of happiness.

 

" _Once two handsome gentlemen_

_Asked a fair young maid a question,"_

 

The hopeful romantic in her always loved this song, because not only did the maid in the story not just give her heart over to anyone, she had found someone perfect to give her heart to.

 

" _What must we do to win your hand_

_And gain your kind affection?"_

 

And that's all she could really ask for when it came to love.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:23pm**

 

Madalynn Thorn had rather appreciated the adorable quality of "Dance on My Heart", true. That didn't mean she didn't adore this next one, this "Bloom" that included the full Bel Canto choir.

 

" _Beauty,_

_Hidden for a time," "For a time,"_

 

The ethereal quality of the piece made it as stunning as the previous song, if not more so.

 

" _Duly ushers in the season's r_ _eborn beauty,_

_Subtle and sublime."_

 

She kept her smile faint, letting the energy envelope her as beautifully as the sun.

 

" _A renaissance of new life_

_In bloom!"_

 

As though she were in a garden of sound, Madalynn sat back in her chair and let the budding chords as well as the sprouting melodies sweep over her. It was just as fabulous as she anticipated, causing her to feel even more grateful she had met Elsie and had gotten to officially put faces to the sounds she'd been privy to for her time at Downton.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:28pm**

 

Beryl couldn't help but snicker a bit as "Bloom" came to an end and "It Had To Be You" began to play, smiling as Ivy got to play the pitch pipe for them.

 

" _Every night when I was alone,_

_Other lovers with each with their own."_

 

While the beginning started a bit sad, it wasn't the message of the song. And that was important to remember.

 

" _I sat and cried,_

_Why haven't I found him yet?" "Found him yet?"_

 

It would all lead to something a little better here. There'd be hope soon enveloping the lyrics, blending into the swaying melody.

 

" _Well, maybe, baby, s_ _omething called fate_

_Kept on saying_ _I had to wait."_

 

Truly, after the first few bars of the song, it began to turn into a sweet little reminder to keep your chin up throughout life because you never know what life may bring. And while that's a message she felt could be overdone, the band director was content to hear it out.

 

" _I saw them all,_

_Just couldn't fall till we met!"_

 

Because, if you did hear it out, it got  _really_ good.

 

" _It had to be you,_

_It had to be you,"_

 

The jazzy sounds emanating from the swung rhythm of the choir allowed for the ladies of Bel Canto to play around a bit, as sections of singers began to snap their fingers to the rhythm.

 

" _I wandered around a_ _nd finally found_

_The somebody who,"_

 

The languid vibe of the melody foreshadowed the happiness just waiting to be revealed.

 

" _Could make me be true,_

_Could make me feel blue,"_

 

And that was love, wasn't it? Someone who gave you all of the emotions that came with life, someone you could be yourself with.

 

" _And even be glad j_ _ust to be sad_

_Thinking of you!"_

 

While sadness didn't always have a part to play in love, Beryl was of the belief that it was important to genuinely miss the people you loved — how else would you realize how much you care about them?

 

" _Some others I've seen m_ _ight never be mean."_

_Might never be cross, o_ _r try to be boss,_

_But they wouldn't do!"_

 

And here was where her favourite part of the song laid in this particular incidence. Because as the swaying tones of the Bel Canto choir glided through their delightful lyrics, she found the message at hand rather familiar.

 

" _Nobody else_

_Gave me a thrill,"_

 

If that didn't describe Charles Carson when it came to Elsie Hughes, she didn't know what would.

 

" _With all your faults,_

_I love you still!"_

 

And if  _that_ didn't describe Elsie Hughes when it came to Charles Carson, she would be stunned beyond belief.

 

" _It had to be you,_

_Wonderful you,_

_It had to be you,"_

 

As the ladies gracefully stepped into the tag of the piece, everyone growing in engagement, Beryl sat back and let the sound wash over her: satisfied with the fusion  _a cappella_ sound and smooth jazz that now filled the air.

 

" _It had to be you,_

_No other would do,_

_It had to be wonderful,"_

 

" _You,"_ The second sopranos carried the post in the tag, finely holding out their last note as everyone else smoothly chimed in " _Wonderful you!"_

 

With the three other parts in complete unison, the first altos deftly slid through their last two bluesy notes, the first sopranos chimed in on top with a dainty finish, and the second altos embellished the bassy aspect of the song one last time.

 

In short, it'd been marvelous.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:32pm**

 

" _Pelicanus is the word,_

_For a certain breed of bird,"_

 

Robert glanced at his wife, remembering she had a strange reaction to this song when they'd heard it at one of the competitions. Though, why it had bothered her so much, she never told him.

 

" _Who truly is a crane,_

_Egypt is his domain!"_

 

Perhaps if he tried to listen more this time around, knowing the basic sound of the song, he might be able to figure it out. Though, knowing him, he'd end up falling asleep in the middle of it again.

 

" _There are two kinds of thereof,_

_Near to the Nile they live."_

 

As though on cue, Cora discreetly turned to him and murmured, "Don't worry about this one. Just close your eyes."

 

" _One of them dwells in the floods_ —"

 

Well, who was he to argue when he was being given  _permission_ to fall asleep?

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:39pm**

 

Elsie looked at Charles — her colleague in arms for this last incredible year and her future husband in the wonderful years to come — before turning back to her students. It was time to revisit a personal favorite, one she had been in love with from the very first she'd heard it. And, much to her delight, it was one that her Bel Canto ladies enjoyed just as much, if not more.

 

Her hands lifted, the left one gently reaching out to cue the start of the piece.

 

Charles returned her smile with one of his own, as his fingers soothingly danced across the piano. The energetic pace of his right was balanced by the low chiming done by his left. The notes eagerly soared off the piano, gracefully arching through the air and twirling into the crowd the further they progressed. He was reminded, as with every time they practiced this piece, of the woman taking center stage to conduct her choir and how this particular song never failed to remind him of her.

 

" _Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth,_

_And danced the skies on laughter's silvered wings."_

 

In the growing darkness of the evening, he could almost swear that the rays of the sun were still shining upon them and happily cheering on their performance. That the sky above swept down soothing breezes to reassure them that all was going to be well, that it was okay.

 

" _Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth,_

_Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling_

_Mirth of sun split clouds."_

 

Even though it was the beginning of sunset, he could imagine the world above as blue as a sunny day in June. And with the invigorating encouragement that came with this composition, Charles allowed himself to be taken to that world, even as his fingers continued to connect with the instrument before him.

 

" _And done a hundred things you have not dreamed of,"_

 

That had certainly been the case this year, the hundred of things he could never have predicted partaking in. That  _a cappella_ audition in September, their courtyard moment in October, simple moments in November, that ball in December, handling Emma together in January, those apple crumbles in February, the head massages in March, those storm-driven confessions in April, and a proper engagement finally beginning to emerge in May.

 

If he wasn't careful, he would be swept up in the memories and not the music!

 

" _And done a hundred things,_

_Hundred things,_

_You have not dreamed of,"_

 

Still, it was personally awe-inspiring: nine months and  _so_ many memories he would not trade for the world.

 

" _Wheeled and soared and spun,_

_High in the sunlit silence."_

 

He shook his personal recollections away from the piano, focusing on the music literally at hand. For now rays of enchantment and beams of serenity colored their tones as the young women basked in the glow that accompanied such blissful songs.

 

And it was this that had given him these spectacular nine months.

 

" _Hovering there I've chased_

_The shouting wind along,"_

 

Merriment and gratuity danced along the breeze now drawn through their gliding notes, the dynamics swirling into the open air. Elsie couldn't keep her smile out of her face, eyes twinkling as she let the sensation of soaring through the music take over her style — her hands arching and directing with more freedom than normal.

 

" _And flung my eager craft_

_Through footless halls of air."_

 

The layers and texture of the tone that spun around the courtyard were tranquilizing and hypnotic, the audience captivated. Charles continued to play, his hands now mirroring the exhilarating delights and astounding nerves that came with flying. The reassuring lifting as one ascends to the sky, followed by the hints of turbulence that still failed to shake the hopeful music, it all echoed within the accompaniment as the ladies prepared to take off once again. But before they could do that, they came to a chilling silence that built stunning anticipation. And, as all the singers involved adored the piece, as their conductor she could take the final rendition as far and as freely as she wanted.

 

" _Up the long delirious_ _ **burning**_   _blue."_

 

Their voices fled rapidly past  _mezzo-forte_ as they climbed into the sky, fearlessly allowing the heights of the music to remain limitless in the powerful realm of  _fortissimo_. And after a few beats, Charles followed Elsie's cue to reign their ladies back in, grounding them once more with the  _forte_  sounds of nostalgia and fondness for the sky.

 

" _I've topped the wind swept heights_

_With easy grace."_

 

Now lost in the reminiscing chords, the familiar melodic theme brought them to a soothing  _mezzo-piano_  — giving them a chance to regally hurtle their voices through the space one more time.

 

" _Where never lark or even eagle flew,"_

 

The sopranos began to paint the stratosphere, breathing life into it again.

 

" _Where never lark or even eagle,"_

 

The altos echoed with contentment, as the audience was getting prepared to take off into the heavens once more.

 

" _Where never lark or even eagle"_

 

Building like an aircraft about to escape into the glorious kingdom of the clouds above, their voices began to lift off the risers and past the ceiling.

 

_"Touched the face of God."_

 

Holding out that tantalizing chord, Elsie guided the women towards one last spin through the skies while Charles steadied them all with further accompaniment.

 

" _And while with silent, lifting mind_

_I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space."_

 

Rising in tension and growing like the atmosphere, the choir began to climb once more into stunning vocal possibilities.

 

" _Put out my hand,"_

 

Harmony stepped out of the notes, beautifully gliding in between the individual sections and happily distinguishing each part as the sound level rose.

 

" _And touched the face of"_

 

Their voices distinctly faded, dimming to a drifting  _pianissimo_ before a thrilling  _fermata_ took hold once more.

 

" _God."_

 

The ladies began slowly and softly, holding out the note and starting to climb into the sky just as the composer of the original poem once did.

 

" _Of"_

 

The heavens were preparing for the women's final chords, readying itself for their final choral ascension into the beautiful beyond.

 

" _God."_

 

Elsie firmly held out her hands at this final note, allowing the magnificent sound to crescendo into the gracefully beckoning space. And when she released both her hands and their voices from her unspoken command, she allowed the silence to be accompanied by her own beaming smile.

 

_I am_ so  _proud,_ She quietly mouthed those words to them, immensely content to meet everyone's eyes over the very much deserved standing ovation they were now receiving.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:46pm**

 

As Bel Canto departed the makeshift stage-area, the young ladies still bowled over by the resounding applause from their audience, the Women's Ensemble primly took to those same spots. For some of the graduating ladies in this group, this would be their last chance to sing in an ensemble. For others, it was their first chance to do as such and they were definitely looking forward to the next round. But, whether it was the beginning or the end, the ladies of the Women's Ensemble were all agreed on one thing:

 

Do justice to this song and remind the audience why they received a perfect rank of Superior.

 

The kind melody of the metaphorical piece began, every singer having long since focused on performing and nothing else. That professional tone of complete attention distinguished them from the previous choirs, already illustrating that they were old hands at all of this.

 

" _I will be Earth,_

_You'll be the flower._

_You have found my root,_

_You are the rain."_

 

And, still, Violet Crawley was not particularly taken with these lyrics.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:50pm**

 

"And, now, allow me to present,"

 

He'd snuck out into the courtyard, hanging near the door as per Mr. Carson's instructions.

 

"Thomas Barrow, as he sings 'I Attempt From Love's Sickness To Fly', by Henry Purcell."

 

The welcoming applause, far warmer than the baritone had anticipated, pulled him to walk evenly down the side of the seats — smiling as he carried himself to the front of the room. He hoped he didn't look half as nervous as he felt, because this was the first time he'd done well enough at the competition to sing his solo now.

 

"You got this, Thomas!" A very familiar voice snuck its way through the crowd's cheer, bringing with it a blush and sudden adrenaline rush.

 

_Thank you, Andy._

 

Having made his way to the very front, Thomas mouthed the words "Thank you" for the audience to see his appreciation, though he was only speaking to one person. And, then he closed his eyes, allowed himself to fall into the very emotions that had him succeed with this song, opened his eyes, and nodded to the accompanist.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:54pm**

 

Isobel had rather liked Barrow's solo, yes. She just also couldn't help but find herself more eager to hear the  _a cappella_ choir — something that she knew most of the audience felt quite similarly about.

 

" _A cappella_ 's next, right?" Martha Levinson asked as the choir in question was walking to the stage area of the courtyard. "I've been waiting all night for them."

 

"Yes, Mrs. Levinson, that's them right now."  _And, you and me both, Mrs. Levinson._

 

They proceeded to watch in anticipation, patiently giving the choir some more time to be totally prepared for whatever was next. For some reason, once everyone performing was ready, Mrs. Hughes was raising her hands to quickly rub them together. Her singers soon followed her lead, the sound of drizzle now pouring into the courtyard.

 

Drizzle gradually crescendoed into a steady rainfall, the soothing noise washing over the crowd. Unorthodox for a Downton Academy concert, it seemed there was to be more than just singing for this piece. Slowly, the conductor brought snaps about the piece, blending consistency with the pitter-patter of droplets that might've caressed the side of a window or gently hugged a rooftop. The snaps picked up pace, the metaphorical droplets now free-falling from the sky.

 

Isobel watched in amazement as the singers now began to firmly pat the front of their legs, imitating the heavier sound of striking storms. Closing her eyes, she could imagine being in the middle of a cloudburst, right in the heart of the watery chaos.

 

Without warning, half the choir jumped into the air and slammed onto the ground, jolting her eyes into opening. The other half echoed, as the sound of thunder reigned over the waterfall. They repeated the motions once,  _twice_ , taking her breath away with such simple exercises.

 

That's when the rain lessened, and the sounds of voices sprung into the space — mimicking the instrumentation of the original hit effortlessly. Some students were even patting their legs still in lieu of drums, maintaining the beat perfectly.

 

Matthew stepped out to the front, easily taking the first solo,

 

_"I hear the drums echoing tonight,_

_She hears only whispers of some quiet conversation,"_

 

John stepped out of the group to join him, their voices easily harmonizing with the weeks of practice they've had.

 

"She's _coming in 12:30 flight,_

_The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide before salvation."_

 

Evelyn Napier soon joined them at the front, taking the role of third soloist with a bit of happiness. He'd been pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Hughes had given him the opportunity, knowing that his wasn't the most "memorable" of the voices in the choir.

 

_"I stopped an old man along the way,_

_Hoping to find some old-forgotten word or ancient melody."_

 

John chimed back in,

 

_"He turned to me as if to say,_

_'Hurry, boy, she's waiting there for you!'"_

 

Anna was the last to join them at the front, sprinkling in some harmony from a higher range. And with the full choir building chords into the  _mezzo-forte_ realm, all the singers began to sway back and fourth, letting the women's sections break out into song.

 

_"Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!"_

 

The men's sections jumped in, eagerly blending their sounds into the mix.

 

_"There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!"  
_

 

Tickled by the performance before her, watching as the kids let themselves have unabashed fun in a concert setting, Isobel already knew that this was going to be her favourite choir of the show.

 

_"I bless the rains down in Africa!_

_Gonna take some time to do the things we never had!"_

 

__.__

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:56pm**

 

As Anna stood at the front with her fellow soloists, she couldn't help the overwhelming contentment of the song take over. Letting her voice dance along with the other second sopranos, hardly fighting to keep a grin out of her eyes as she imitated several instruments, she couldn't help but feel so relieved to be alive and well.

 

_"Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you!"_

 

And, if today taught her anything, it was the importance of seizing the moment.

 

Which she fully intended to do now with this song, and later with John.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 7** **:57pm**

 

_"Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!"_

 

Martha proudly clapped along to beat the choristers provided, taking great pleasure from causing Violet to scowl at the action. And, though it wouldn't have stopped her if no one tagged along, the American admitted she was tickled to see Isobel following suit.

 

_"There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!"_

 

Definitely worth the extra trip back to Downton, that was for sure. Especially when she caught sight of Mr. Carson discreetly mouthing the words to the song — having tucked himself away in the courtyard so as to not to distract from Mrs. Hughes and her choir. That little interaction in itself was worth its weight in gold.

 

_"I bless the rains down in Africa!_

_I bless the rains down in Africa!"_

 

And, she was even charmed to see the last soloist, a young blonde lady, finally pipe up for herself by repeating,  _"I bless the rains! I bless the rains!"_

 

Glancing back to the overarching crowd, her satisfaction grew at the sight of all her granddaughters at last having fun as well. Sybil was taken with the song from its beginning, Edith needing an additional minute to get into the jam. And, now, Mary was fluidly moving back and forth where she stood, a genuine look of excitement on her face.

 

_"Gonna take some time to do the things we never had!"_

 

As the choir finished out the song, the sound of rain briefly ensued once again.

 

This time, when this had come to an end, she gave them all a standing ovation, proudly cheering at the lot.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 8:03** **pm**

 

_"A 'nión mhín ó, sin_

_Anall na fir shúrí,"_

 

Sybil watched as Tom took charge of his solo, admiration flooding her as she saw how he captivated the audience. With the Irish Gaelic flying forth like that, she couldn't help but be very impressed even after watching rehearse for ages.

 

_"A mháithairin mhín_

_Ó, cuir na roithléan_

_Go dtí mé."_

 

Without missing a beat, the rest of the choir jumped into this entangling song of cheeky courtship.

 

_"Dúlamán, dúlamán, dúlamán na_

_Binne buí, dúlamán na,_

_Binne buí Gaelach!"_

 

The song of the "Seaweed" was one he'd explained to her on their walks back to their respective homes. It was one that had a few variations when it came to interpretation. But the interpretation she found herself most drawn to invoked a tone of resolute, mischievous challenge.

 

_"Dúlamán, dúlamán, dúlamán na_

_Farraigem, dúlamán na,_

_Binne buí Gaelach!"_

 

And, so far, everyone in the crowd looked unexpectedly captivated by the piece. She'd reckon that few would recognize it, or understand the translation if they recalled the language at hand.

 

_"Rachaimid chun Niúir leis an dúlamán gaelach_

_Ceannóimid bróga daora are an dúlamán maorach!"_

 

She just couldn't wait to swap places with Tom, practically bouncing in her place from the excitement that came with this. It'd be surprise her family to say the least, and Sybil was of the firm belief that they needed surprises like this if they were going to get anywhere in life.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 8:04** **pm**

 

Needless to say, when Sybil Crawley had stepped forth and neatly took the place of Tom Branson, the Irish Gaelic flowing her lips as though she'd always known it, several jaws dropped as predicted.

 

And, for the record, it wasn't  _just_ the Crawleys who were stunned. Tom's family was as stupefied by her firm control of the beautiful language.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 8:06** **pm**

 

"For this next piece," Mary watched as Mrs. Hughes turned around to face the audience, a feeling of dread taking over. "We, the  _a cappella_ choir, would like to dedicate it to a fantastic administrator and wonderful woman."

 

The young soprano could hear the excitement her mother was currently withholding, could feel the enthusiasm as clearly as seeing daylight — even though she now had her back to the crowd along with the rest of the choir.

 

"Without Mrs. Crawley's support," Mrs. Hughes had continued, "We would certainly not be where we are today."

 

_Whether that's for better or worst, it's certainly accurate,_ Mary thought darkly to herself. While there were many brilliant things that'd come about in the last year, she couldn't help but be reminded of what had almost happened today. Though, looking at Anna now, her friend who looked so happy to be performing this song — who was in a much better place than she'd been when the police arrived, the moment when everything had caught up to her — Mary couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

 

Though that relief was short-fleeting, as she heard Mrs. Hughes begin to start them off. And, since all of their backs were to the audience for the start of the song, the woman had to do so by clapping them in before stepping back a few paces to let her choir remain the main focus.

 

_"Da da da da_

_Da da da da,"_

 

Honestly, it's only the fact that she knew Mama would be incredibly happy about this performance that Mary fixed a cheery grin on her face — maintaining that excitement as turned around with the rest of her section, putting her hands on her hips with feigned energy. Unlike other performers she'd seen on Youtube, who'd flail about in an unusually queer fashion, her choir would smoothly pivot about row by row.

 

_"Da da da da_

_Da da da da"_

 

And, yes, she'd be avoiding Mr. Carson's gaping stare for the next four and a half minutes: she  _knew_ Mrs. Hughes hadn't mentioned their choreography to the choir director, for obvious reasons.

 

_Da da da da_

_Da da da da,"_

 

Much to her immense frustration, she'd been unable to sway Mrs. Hughes from including a moment in which they raise their arms while bouncing in their place. Truly, Mary was immensely grateful for Downton's strict phone policy, in which no recordings are allowed of shows.

 

_"Da da da da_

_Da da da da,"_

 

She didn't have much time to reflect on the matter, though: Alfred was already making his way toward the front of the group while Claire Morris was trailing behind.

 

_"Just a small town girl,"_

 

Nerves had dictated his tone be a bit breathier than normal, his breathing more shallow. Still, this wasn't bad for his first solo — though she knew Matthew could do far better.

 

_"Living in a lonely world._

_She took the midnight train going anywhere."_

 

Claire strode to the center of the focus, gesturing to Alfred as she did so and letting her voice run free.

 

_"Just a city boy,_

_Born and raised in South Detroit,"_

 

Much like her singing companion, her own feelings had constricted her tone. But, even still, the excitement of having a solo seemed to have breathed enough life into the young lady that she did fairly well herself.

 

_"He took the midnight train going anywhere."_

 

Surprising the audience further, the group began to rearrange themselves as a new pair of soloists took to the front. Even more shocking was when the overall choir jumped into new positions, milking the endearing choreography for all they had.

 

_"A singer in a smokey room,"_ Jimmy seemed to adore the fact that he'd gotten a solo in one of the more well-known songs of the concert, his voice lapping up the attention with ease.

 

_**"**_ _The smell of wine and cheap perfume,"_ Rose, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the solo and simultaneously lose herself to the story of the song.

 

_**"** For a smile they can share the night,_

_It goes on and on and on and on."_

 

Letting hands reach out into the crowd, the  _a cappella_ army prepared itself for the chorus:

_Strangers, waiting!"_

 

They all leapt into outrageously silly choreography, doing some sort of motion that was supposed to imitate shoulder shrugging while swiveling back-and-forth as though they were waiting for something.

 

_"Up and down the boulevard,"_

 

Shoulder shrugging transformed into slow-motion running, that Mary had been informed was to make them look like they were chasing after a train. Weeks of rehearsing like this had her still disbelieving it to be the case.

 

_"Their shadows, searching"_

_In the night."_

 

Heads peered all around the courtyard as every student imitated the art of desperately looking for something. And, yes, for prior motivation Mrs. Hughes had told them all to pretend they'd just lost their phones.

 

_"Streetlights, people,_

_Living just to find emotion!"_

 

Fist-pumping blended with bouncing around in general as they continued to "search" for something greater than themselves in the courtyard.

 

_"Hiding, somewhere_

_In the night!"_

 

Propelling their voices into the sky, hands outstretched once more, Mary couldn't help feeling entirely ridiculous.

 

But, the worst part?

 

She hardly minded a bit. Not when Anna looked so ecstatic and even Matthew was doing his very best to bring their choreography to life.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 8:08** **pm**

 

_"Don't stop believin'!_

_Hold on to that feeling!"_

 

All in all, Cora Crawley was floored by the sound and appeared to be quite content to keep on listening to the oldie. And, surprisingly enough, she was not the only one. Mr. Carson looked up in bewilderment as he saw several heads bobbing in the crowd, many lips mouthing the words, and some dancing going on in some of the seats. A year ago this sort of audience reaction would've been improbable — viewed as highly undignified, rather distasteful.

 

Today, he was happy they all had cause to celebrate and could act silly in the first place, all things considered.

 

_"Streetlight, people,"_

 

Snapping along as though they were at public institution instead of a refined private academy, the students looked absolutely entranced with their song — with the audience rather taken as well.

 

_"Don't stop believin'!"_

 

And then they moved into the audience, snaps changing into claps as every singer invited the crowd to sing along. And the audience was daring to  _follow_ _along_ —

 

Alright, well, even he could recognize a lost cause.

 

_"Hold onto that feeling!"_

 

And seeing Elsie act so silly, clapping along as though she were a member of the choir instead of their leader, he couldn't help but feel just a bit better.

 

_"Streetlight, people,"_

 

Though if anyone asked, he would say that he thoroughly disapproved.

 

_"Don't stop!"_

 

And with all the students too distracted with posing like rockstars for the dramatic end of the song, and the audience equally distracted by the students, he could allow himself a small smile.

 

_._

**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 - 8:10** **pm**

 

"And before we go to intermission, ladies and gentlemen," Elsie added, beaming at the audience. "I'd like to point out that this next piece is a sing-along. Though," The mood was light enough she felt brave enough to tease them all. "I do believe you all received that memo a song or three ago."

 

A chorus of laughters — giggles, chortles, snorts, guffaws, chuckles — scattered among the crowd at this, the tinkling melodies that came with good humour loud and clear. Sharing a fond look with Charles before re-focusing on her students, the choir teacher waited for the audience to settle before raising her hands one more time.

 

With a series of " _da"_ s imitating the instruments of the piece, the final song of the first half began.

 

" _There are places I remember,_

_All my life,_

_Though some have changed!"_

 

That was certainly the case for many things, Elsie couldn't help but recall, thinking particularly of the auditorium for a current example.

 

" _Some forever, not for better!_

_Some have gone,_

_And some remain."_

 

Her first recital hall, the fair she'd met Joe at, their first flat together, her conservatory, all of these places in time darted around her mind.

 

" _All these places have their moments,_

_With lovers and friends_

_I still can recall."_

 

Elsie couldn't help but remember the very memories that encouraged her to stay here at Downton: the courtyard, the winter ball, that night on the sofa. They, too, blended with those older memories — the first concert she and Beryl ever pulled off, realizing she wanted to marry Joe, pulling off her very first solo long before she'd met either of them, learning her power as a soprano — and reflected in her hand movements as she continued to conduct.

 

" _Some are dead_

_And some are living,"_

 

Liz's passing came to mind, Joe's too, as grief began to sink in again. But a look at Charles as he sat singing along and still tucked away from the spotlight helped keep the grief from overwhelming her. There were people and things still worth living for, and his presence helped to remind her.

 

" _In my life_

_I loved them all."_

 

Bringing herself out of her reverie, astonished that she could conduct and recall  _so_ much life, Elsie focused on her students. Each singer in front of her appeared to be wrapped in their own emotions, with not many dry eyes in sight.

 

" _But of all these friends and lovers,_

_There is no one_

_Compares with you."_

 

It was true.

 

She had a wonderful time with Joe, but her moments with Charles just couldn't compare.

 

" _And these memories lose their meaning,_

_When I think of love_

_As something new."_

 

Drawing back into the craft itself, she maintained a steady rhythm for her students to hold onto, a repeated wave of motion for their voices to wade through.

 

" _Though I know I'll never lose affection_

_For people and things_

_That went before."_

 

It was something she felt rang as true as a major chord, and something she could only hope would remain so.

 

" _I know I'll often stop_

_And think about them._

_In my life,_

_I love you more."_

 

This next part firmly shook off the memories as Elsie focused on bringing her  _a cappella_ army through the section of the music in which they'd mimic the 18th century instruments in the original version. This was and still is the hardest section of music she'd given her group overall, and they soldiered on beautifully.

 

" _Though I know I'll never lose affection_

_For people and things_

_That went before."_

 

Slowing them all down in a  _ritardando_ , she allowed the recollections of life — of this last year in particular — to guide her movements.

 

" _I know I'll often stop,"_

 

As her singers held out their notes for " _stop"_ , dipping into the melancholic mood a bit more and stilling the audience, she couldn't help but urge them to hold out their respective notes just a little longer. Her hands then lifted from their spots, the  _fermata_ she now offered her group destined to hold an air of respectful silence for all the memories, all the moments of life, that brought them here.

 

" _And think about them,"_

 

Elsie liked to believe that everyone understood why that introspective silence had been so necessary.

 

_"In my life_

_I love you more."_

 

Another round of " _da"_ s proceeded, as they all began to close out the song.

 

" _In my life,_

_I love you more."_

 

One final procession of " _da"_ s swept over the audience, as she turned her head to Charles — still held captive by the chilling emotions the song provided — and gave him a soft smile. Recalling the feeling of standing in the auditorium only a few months ago, having just finished guiding her choirs through the first half of their holiday concert, the woman realized it had all been so different. If anything, having gone through all of these tribulations this semester — Mrs. Butte, Alice, Carlisle Institute, and now Green and Edna — made it more exhilarating to stand here and know that they'd made it to today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe that was only the first half of the concert?
> 
> Also, while I am quite fortunate to say I've not personally experienced a Green situation I am not so fortunate in regards to the ceiling part. That's actually totally based on a real incident I got to participate in (Except, instead of it being a choir show it was musical theatre. And we had only three hours in which to fix everything instead of the six or so they got).
> 
> Also, part of the delay — other than the fact that I wanted to make sure I got the first half of the concert right — was because I derailed from what I had intended. The original writing for the Green section is much longer, much darker (even though Anna still defended herself!), and far too intense for the voice of this story. That's partially due to my anger over what had happened on the show, and needing to make it more fulfilling when Green got taken down. But, it's also due to those events I've briefly mentioned (in a previous chapter) happening in a nearby community. Needless to say, if I do post the original writing, it'll be similar to Chelsie Dagger's "Wading Into Blood" in which it's posted as its own thing.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you have enjoyed the first half of the concert and are having a lovely day! The second half of the concert might take an extra day or two to be ready for posting, but it will happen :)


	34. Silly Sweethearts and Stormy Codas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for only a day or two -- my sincerest apologies for that. 
> 
> In any case, ladies and gentlemen, we made it to the second half of the concert! Be prepared for a spot of drama along with the normal show; though it shouldn’t be as triggering or frightening as what had been in the previous chapter. Moreover, a special shoutout to a very special person looking over this chapter for me :) Any remaining mistakes within these next words are totally mine.
> 
>  
> 
> Concert Order:
> 
>  
> 
> Men’s Ensemble:
> 
> For the Beauty of the Earth ~~~ "Taipei Male Choir & Cheng-Gong High School Choir - For the Beauty of the Earth (John Rutter)"
> 
>  
> 
> Bass Choir/Men’s Chorus
> 
> Silent Noon ~~~ "USC Apollo Men's Chorus: "Silent Noon" by Ralph Vaughan Williams arr. Matthew D. Nielsen"
> 
> Let Me Call You Sweetheart ~~~ "Let Me Call You Sweetheart - Valentines Day Barbershop Quartet"
> 
> I Have Had Singing ~~~ "The Singing Statesmen - I Have Had Singing - Ron Jeffers"
> 
>  
> 
> Mary’s Solo
> 
> Du Bist Die Ruh ~~~ " Barbara Bonney; "Du bist die Ruh"; Franz Schubert "
> 
>  
> 
> Chambers
> 
> Esto Les Digo ~~~ "Esto Les Digo Lane Tech"
> 
>  
> 
> Concert Choir/Advanced Mixed Chorus
> 
> Set Me As A Seal ~~~ "Set me as a Seal - Rene Clausen - The National Lutheran Choir"
> 
> Il Bianco e Dolce Cigno ~~~ "THE MOST BEAUTIFUL RENAISSANCE MUSIC --- Il Bianco e Dolce Cigno"
> 
> Bright Morning Stars ~~~ "The Choral Project - Bright Morning Stars"
> 
> Somewhere ~~~ "Somewhere - Robert Edgerton CSULB University"
> 
>  
> 
> Finales
> 
> Water Night ~~~ "Water Night (E. Whitacre) Score Animation"
> 
> You Are the Music ~~~ "TMEA All-State Mixed Choir 2013- You Are The Music"  
> [Note: Even though I didn’t find a version with the solo set-up in the story, for "You Are the Music", I don't think it takes away at all.]
> 
>  
> 
> And without further adieu, the final concert of this Downton Academy's 2018-2019 school year!

 

_  
**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:31p** **m** _

 

It had felt like only minutes since Alfred had gotten on stage for another rendition of "For the Beauty of the Earth". Though, before he knew it, the rest of Bass Choir had come on stage to join in for the next song. And, now, even the keyboard was already striking up the chords for "Silent Noon".

 

_“Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,_

_The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:_

_Your eyes smile peace.”_

 

Really, at this rate, the concert would be over before he remembered to blink. 

 

_._

 

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:36p** **m** _

 

_“Let me call your sweetheart_

_I’m in love with you.”_

 

She had been immensely pleased with both herself and Mrs. Hughes -- for it had to have been Mrs. Hughes’s influence that made this happen.

 

_“Let me hear you whisper that you_

_Love me, too.”_

 

Hearing the classic song, recognizing it in the current barbershop pole-cat form it took, Martha Levinson couldn’t help but know that this had been a brilliant decision on her part. 

 

_“Keep the lovelight glowing_

_In your eyes so true.”_

 

And, judging from the fact that so many people looked taken with the song -- as they rightfully should -- she also knew that it would be easy to make a request, to lengthen out the piece in her own way.

 

_“Let me call you sweetheart,_

_I’m in love with you.”_

 

“Encore!” The American boldly shouted, internally cackling as Mr. Carson turned around to stare at her. “Encore!”  


But, her audacious shout had encouraged echoes in the crowd, echoes that she fanned further to life by starting up her own version of,

 

_“Let me call you sweetheart,”_

 

Some of the boys in the choir who had admired her the day she’d interrupted rehearsal, began to sing along with. And, soon enough, Mr. Carson was motioning to her -- as though to say everyone could follow her lead -- with what looked like a little hint of defeat in his posture.

 

_“I’m in love with you!”_

 

Well, he’d given her permission to have this encore and so she would. And it only took a few extra seconds for those in that crowd that knew the lyrics to start merrily singing along, the whole group rather encouraged to give it their all.

 

_“Let me hear you whisper_

_That you love me, too!”_

 

Keeping the tempo upbeat, Martha had decided to stand up in her seat and conduct while Mr. Carson simply chose not to fight this battle and instead sing with everyone else. 

 

_“Keep the lovelight glowing_

_In your eyes so true!”_

 

Looking to the rest of the crowd who remained silent -- “Surely you’ve picked up the lyrics by now!” -- Martha proceeded to do her thing and help them all finish the song in an inordinately rousing manner.

 

_“Let me call you sweetheart,”_

 

And stepping over to the mortified Violet Crawley, the American proceeded through the tag of the song with great vigour -- relishing these precious minutes with everything she had. 

 

_“I’m in love,”_

 

Martha held out her arms to the woman, a mischievous beam overtaking her face as she boldly continued,

 

_“With you!”_

 

Needless to say, Violet did not return her affections. Especially not when the cheers and resounding applause reached an all-time high, as the normally dignified and restrained crowd had loosened up over the evening. 

 

_._

 

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:40p** **m** _

 

She stood within one of the classrooms of the school itself, having been just a little too late to find an empty courtyard seat to sneak into during intermission. Though, not needing to catch the entire show she hardly minded this set-up.

 

_“Singing, singing,_

_Oh, the singing!”_

 

And now that the woman was reminded of the vocal power that lay within Downton’s walls, the musician in her couldn’t help but begrudge the fact that she missed a fair amount of the show. 

 

_“There was so much singing then!”_

 

All thoughts of compliments and concert venues was brushed aside for the overwhelming tone of the piece. The song sounded right in its message. Back then, when the woman hadn’t been forced to play the role of instructor she currently donned. Truly, back then there was a willingness to sing that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

 

_“We all sang,_

_And this was my pleasure, too.”_

 

_Yes_ , she let the sound wash over her, _it had been a pleasure_. But, reputation and expectations soon morphed pleasure into tiresome obligation. And soon enough, she found herself in a school in which competition meant far more than anything else.

 

_“The boys in the fields,_

_The chapels,” “Chapels” “were_

_Full of singing.”_

 

Those had been the days -- when she had been a talented chorister working alongside brilliant performers who cared about the connection to music more than the competition.

 

_“Always full of singing.”_

 

It had been easy, then.

 

_“Here I lie,_

_Here I lie,_

_I have had pleasure enough.”_

 

And, unlike the lyrics of the piece washing over her now, she wanted that pleasure back.

 

_“I have had singing,”_

 

She wanted the resolution that laid within those soothing notes, those languid chords, to rest within herself. She wanted the serene harmony that came from those lyrics to guide her own words.

 

_“I have had singing,_

 

All she had was an emptiness, a longing for a different life. 

 

Even as she felt those glorious final chords entrench her in resolution, there was still an emptiness. And because of that emptiness, she had to distract herself by looking into the seated crowd.

 

_Why is_ ** _she_** _here?_ Phoebe Miller darkly thought to herself, a scowl forming as melancholic nostalgia was swept aside in order to focus on the problem at hand. The sight of Emma Butte tucked away in the back row of seats could mean nothing good, that’s for sure. And the fact that that Braithwaite girl, who Phoebe now saw listed in the program, had come to Carlisle yesterday only made things worse. It implied things that Phoebe didn't dare to assume, insinuated a conclusion she hardly wanted to reach.

 

Worse still, Phoebe couldn’t act now. She didn’t know why Emma was here, and she certainly didn’t want to give herself away before finding out. 

 

_._

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:44p** **m** _

_“Du bist die Ruh_

_Der Frede mild.”_

  
Matthew could listen to Mary sing this time and time again, unashamedly taken with her voice and overall attitude with the piece. It was similar to letting a dominant-seventh chord ring freely -- something that should be fully enjoyed each and every time one possibly could.  


_"Die Sehnsucht du_

_Und was sie stillt."_

_._

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:49p** **m** _

 

As Mary patiently waited for her fellow Chambers singers to join her on stage, so they could perform “Esto Les Digo” she couldn’t help but blush at the ongoing applause for her solo. In her opinion, it hadn’t been necessarily the best -- in regards to a technical perspective, that is. 

 

But, in regards to singing from the heart and trying to convey her message, she thought she did alright.

 

_‘Did alright’?_ Her internal critic scoffed, _Your consonants were hardly the crisp sounds required to bring the sound forth, the connection between phrases seemed far more breathy and questionable than previous performances, as well as--_

 

“You did marvelously,” Matthew whispered to her as he took his spot nearby, unknowingly silencing the internal critic.

 

_._

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:54p** **m** _

 

_“Set me as a seal upon your heart._

_As a seal upon your arm.”_

 

Truly, Edith could listen to this song a hundred times over, it was that entrancing. 

 

_“For love is strong as death._

_For love is strong as death.”_

 

And to perform it somehow magnified its beauty, deepened its message to an impossible degree.

 

_._

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 8:58p**_ _**m** _

 

_“Il bianco e dolce cigno_

_Cantando more,_

 

“Oh, I see.” Isobel heard Violet whisper, the throwaway comment unfortunately sounding fascinating enough to demand some inquiry.

 

_“Ed io piangendo,_

_Giung’ al fin del viver mio.”_

 

“And what exactly do you see?” Isobel quipped, “A fantastic choir singing a chilling Italian madrigal?”

 

_“Ed io piangendo,_

_Giung’ al fin del viver mio.”_

 

“What I see is a risqué song of courtship.” Violet retorted, garnering a scoff from Isobel. The latter could only assume that the former was highly scandalized by this choice, if anything.

 

_“Stran’ e diversa sorte,_

_Ch’ei more sconsolato,”_

 

“I see. It bothers you, I take it?”

 

_“Ed io moro beato."_

 

“Not at all,” She regally remarked, “It _reminds_ me.”

 

_“Morte che nel morire,”_

 

Isobel stared at her, eyes radiating confusion as her face contorted a bit, unsure of how to take that statement. Deciding she didn’t need to know how to interpret that, the younger woman focused on getting back to the performance ahead and keeping her thoughts to herself for the next few minutes.

 

_“M’empie di gioia tutt’e di desire;_

_Se nel morir’ altro dolor non sento,”_

 

Or, at least, that’s what she had wanted to do. What Isobel found herself doing was flusteredly trying _not_ to translate the Italian and keep her focus as far away from Violet as possible.

 

_“Di mille mort’ il,” “Di mille mort’ il di sarei contendo,”_

 

_._

 

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:01p** **m** _

 

There was nothing quite like sneaking into an empty classroom to shamelessly eavesdrop on the Concert Choir. And, Ivy could admit, she really did like the fact that William had this solo. His voice seemed perfect for the part, the optimism of the lyrics really there when he sang it.

 

_“Bright morning stars are rising,_

_Bright morning stars are rising.”_

 

Closing her eyes, she didn’t swoon at the sound. But she did freely grin, thinking of her own bright morning stars as they rose into a promising future. 

 

_“Bright morning stars are rising,_

_Day is a breaking in my soul.”_

 

_._

_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:06p** **m** _

  


They stood there in silence, she at the keyboard and he at the center of it all. These were, after all, his students. The ones that they shared for the last year, but the ones he had nurtured from their first day of choir. The ones that had stuck through with the program and the concerts and his incredible standards.

 

And, so, it was only fitting that he conduct the Concert Choir one last time. 

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:07p** **m** _ **

 

She had tucked herself away in one of the classrooms on the floor floor, leaning against a wall with the window wide open.

 

_“Somewhere,”_ The sopranos started at a low _pianissimo_ , though you wouldn’t know it was them unless you saw it -- that’s how low the notes were. The sound echoed through another section, a men’s section if Phyllis were guessing, as though they were all murmuring through a mist,  _“Somewhere.”_

 

Closing her eyes, she ignored all thoughts of which part was singing or who looked like what. The only thing she wanted to pay attention to was the beautiful sound itself.

 

_“Somewhere,” “Somewhere,”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:08p** **m** _ **

 

Sitting quietly at the keyboard, Elsie refrained from tearing up at the beautiful chords starting to break through. The notes they’d been working on ever since the song had first been introduced were truly ringing today, a wonderfully chilling reminder of how far everyone had come.

 

_“There’s a place for us,”_

 

As though it were only the two of them in the courtyard, as though they weren’t in the middle of a concert, she openly looked at Charles. She did not allow her love for him or for this moment to overtake her demeanour, but she couldn’t refrain from observing him from her spot. Elsie knew for a fact that he could see her out of the corner of his eye, even as he appeared to be solely focused on his choir.

 

_“Somewhere a place for us.”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:08p** **m** _ **

 

After the day he’d been put through, his nerves shot with the realization that Anna could have easily been hurt or worse, John couldn’t help but relieved that everything was okay. That they were okay, scary as today had been.

 

_“Peace and quiet and open air,”_

 

Though, due to his fear, he felt no guilt about disrupting the order of who stood where. In fact, he used their normal set-up, having the men stand in the middle to divide the altos and sopranos, to his advantage. 

 

_“Wait for us”_

 

For, by being a baritone, he could stand right next to Anna on the risers. 

 

_“Somewhere.”_

 

And, not only that, he could discreetly hold her hand.

 

_._

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:09p** **m** _ **

 

Charles felt the compelling pull of the next few measures long before they arrived, making sure that his movements guided the choir in the _legato_ manner Elsie also favoured. Sweeping gestures, highly considerate actions, it all allowed for the sound to evolve into one with greater fervour -- one with greater impact.

 

_“There’s a time for us._

_Someday a time for us.”_

 

Knowing Elsie’s eyes still remained on his, the choir director allowed his own to reflect the warmth and love he wanted to convey. He let his hands grasp the air before him, direct the singers waiting for his instruction, as though it were a conversation only they were privy to.

 

_“Time together with time to spare,”_

 

He’d make sure they’d have moments where it could just be the two of them. Not choir director and teacher, bent on making sure their students succeeded. Rather, just Elsie and Charles.

 

_“Time to learn,”_

 

Coaxing _forte_ out of his students without any great difficulty, he prepared them to give the next section everything they had.

 

_“Time to care.”_

 

_._

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:10p** **m** _ **

 

Mary felt the tides of music sweep over her, for once only focused on the lyrics, the tone, itself. 

 

_“A time,” “Someday!”_ Her voice was one of many that broke through the wave the other sections created, letting its message run down her spine.

 

_“Someday a time,” “Somewhere!”_ Eyes drifting in Matthew’s direction, for he stood in her peripheral as she followed Mr. Carson’s cues, she wondered about the future.

 

_“Someday a time,” “We’ll find a new way of living!”_

 

She wondered what life could be like, if this song would ring as true for her one day as it clearly did for her choir director. And as her voice fell back from the empowering feeling _forte_ brought, so did her thoughts.

_  
_ _“Someday a time,” “We’ll find a way of forgiving,”_

 

_Forgiveness for what?_ She had mentally challenged her teachers when they’d initially come across the lyric. Forgiveness for imperfection? Forgiveness for letting the time escape?

 

_“Someday a time,” “Someday,”_

_“Someday a time,_

_Somewhere.”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:11p** **m** _ **

 

Cora had long since anticipated the fact that tears were going to fall at some point during this song, having felt a shiver of recognition at the start of the piece. So when the choir had quieted down, she thought it was over and that she had cried all the tears she had to spare.

 

Unfortunately, the men’s sections were proving that was not to be the case.

 

_“Somewhere,” “Some day a time,”_

 

A sense of musical déjà vu took hold of her, as she remained willingly captive to the sound along with almost every single other audience member.

 

_“There’s a place for us.”_ She found herself holding Robert’s hand unconsciously, noticing her husband looked as taken with the music as she felt. _“There’s a place for us,”_

 

And as the sopranos and altos began to mirror one another, evoking and flawlessly maintaining a spine tingling that Cora had caught hints of during this concert, she knew this was her favorite song overall. That “Don’t Stop Believin’” was fantastic for nostalgia, but that this was her favorite.

 

_“A time and place,”_ They echoed one another over the men’s steadying chorus of sound, their voices rippling across the stage and into the crowd with varying, tantalizing speeds. _“A time and place,”_

 

_“A time and place for us, “A time and place for us,”_

 

Increasing in speed, rising in volume, the women fiercely held her attention without even trying, stirring their sound into an overarching surge that Cora couldn’t describe but she could certainly feel, even as that surge dipped into a quieter oscillation. 

 

_“A place for us.”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:12p** **m** _ **

 

_“Hold,” “Hold my hand and we’re halfway there,” “Halfway there!”_

 

Looking out into the courtyard, Elsie couldn’t help but see the memories instilled in the place. The cloudbursts in which she soaked in the enchanting raindrops, the feeling of Charles hugging her as her overwhelming grief had reduced her to tears.

 

_“Hold my hand and I’ll take you there.”_

 

She found her gaze meeting his squarely, knowing that they normally did not sing this section at what felt like _larghetto_. Nor was it nearly as powerful, as intoxicatingly mesmerizing, as it was right now.

 

_“Somehow!”_

 

They had finally reached _fortissimo_ , the crescendo of wistful hope giving way to the yearnings of a future they could spend together. 

 

_“Some day!”_

 

And though he had turned his line of sight back to his choir, Elsie could feel Charles’s attention remain focused on her, remain dedicated to them.

 

_“Somewhere,”_

 

The voices of the ladies rose out of the captivating depths that came with such a piece, even as the gentlemen strongly repeated that, indeed, _“There’s a place for us.”_

 

An ethereal sound emitted from the sopranos and altos, a sound of possibilities just out of reach. And, as though in response, the tenors, baritones, and basses quietly hummed a chilling noise that signified that hope could be grounded. That it may break, but it could survive.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:13p** **m** _ **

 

As the Concert Choir took one last bow for that spectacular performance, Isobel couldn’t help but feel a sense of immense pride strike her. Choir concerts in the past had usually been wonderful or exciting, but these last two have been positively _brilliant_.

 

And although Isobel knew the woman was incredibly influential in this academic year, she recognized that it wasn’t only due to Elsie. Rather, it was a combination of the fact that the woman had pushed every member of the choirs -- teacher and student -- to be their best selves when it came to performing. Add to that mostly everyone had responded in kind, and they had a fantastic change within that section of the music department.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Carson intoned, having turned around to face the crowd. “Weren’t they all marvelous?”

 

A resounding cheer was brought up, the applause bouncing off the walls of the enclosed courtyard and into the fading twilight sky. She herself gave a shout of approval, clapping more enthusiastically than normal and not giving a flying fig what the rest of her family thought about it.

 

The choir director outright beamed at this, pivoting back to his choir to signal for them to take one more, well-deserved bow. They followed his lead, heads dipping as each singer respectfully bowed. 

 

“And, now,” Mr. Carson, “Allow me to call to conduct the woman who inspired most of this evening’s selection and the teacher we are so very blessed to have found,” Isobel’s eyes darted to Mrs. Hughes, watching as the woman clearly was not expecting this, “To conduct the first of our two finale pieces, ‘Water Night’ by Eric Whitacre.”

 

Gesturing to the woman who’d looked content to wait at the keyboard, the choir director beckoned for her to swap places with him. And though Mrs. Hughes seemed hesitant at first, the audience’s encouraging claps and whistles of encouragement -- as well as something Mr. Carson whispered to her as she approached the music stand he normally stood behind whilst conducting -- convinced her. So, it was with a sense of excitement that Isobel joined the other applauders once again as they conveyed their feelings of thrill.

 

Only once the choir teacher turned back to the Concert Choir, an exasperated smile in her eyes as she briefly stole a look in her colleague’s direction, did the applause respectfully quiet down. And, though Isobel could not see it, she could only imagine the captivating look of concentration that Elsie was sending the singers as her hands rose to conduct for the last time that evening.  

 

_“Night with the eyes_

_Of a horse that trembles in the night.”_

 

Isobel let out a silent exhalation at rippling music, surprised at how strong and enveloping the tone was -- seeing as how it was only the Concert Choir singing. The other students, undoubtedly tucked away on the other floors of the building, must’ve simply been informed to join in at a later point.

 

Still, whatever the case, this might very well be one of the most memorable pieces of music she’d ever witnessed and they were hardly thirty seconds in.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:15p** **m** _ **

 

Thomas had been enamoured with this piece long before the sheet music had been given, finding it to be a fantastic work of art. And when he’d accidentally found out that it was _Mr. Carson_ who had suggested it for the finale pieces -- instead of Mrs. Hughes, like he’d assumed -- he was shocked. Not only was it _a cappella,_ as well as potentially risqué depending on the perspective, it just hadn’t struck the baritone as the sort of music the choir director would suggest.

 

But, apparently a leopard _can_ change its spots, something Thomas was pleased to witness.

 

_“Night with eyes of water_

_In the field asleep is in your eyes,”_

 

It only made diving into this all the more meaningful.

 

_“A horse that trembles_

_Is in your eyes of secret water.”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:16p** **m** _ **

 

One of the best parts of being a conductor, something that came with being able to direct the eager ocean of sound that laid before her, was that Elsie knew what they were capable of. 

 

_“Eyes!”_ Together, they pierced the chord with what felt like strength of lightning, powerfully electrifying the air. _“Eye_ s _of shadow water,”_

 

Another fantastic part of being a conductor: she knew the level of depth these individuals could reach, having observed and worked with them for months now.

 

_“Eyes,”_ A rumbling chord, one that was grounded in the depths of the sea, swept through the crowd, _“Eyes of well water,”_

 

And, finally, as a conductor, she understood that they were gifted and capable of great accomplishments; they only needed someone to help them open the doors of their respective opportunities.

 

_“Eyes,”_ And the teacher hoped that, in her own way, she had done just that. _“Eyes of dream water,”_

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:16p** **m** _ **

 

_“Silence and solitude,”_

 

Of the two finale songs, Anna found herself drawn to this one more often. She loved the message of the other piece and her own part in it, but this was a song that was both complex and simple, one that was downright hypnotic more often than not.

 

_“Two little animals moon-led”_

 

Watching as though she were in a trance, Anna’s voice followed her conductor’s cue without fail -- the _tuplets_ readily becoming meaningful sound, not just notes. 

 

_“Drink in your eyes,”_

 

Letting her voice blend with the dozens of singers standing right beside her, the soprano’s eyes caught subtle movement within the courtyard as she continued.

 

_“Drink in those waters.”_

 

And with that movement came, without any hesitation, a faint smile of anticipation.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:16p** **m** _ **

 

_“If you open your eyes,”_

 

A fierce torrent of voices stormed the space as every member of the Bass Choir, Bel Canto, and Treble Choir swiftly sailed through all doors of the courtyard -- finally cascading into the transfixing scene. 

 

_“Might opens”_

 

Taking their places along the walls of the courtyard, maintaining their hailstorm of _forte_ , each let their purpose in this piece dictate where their individuals gales of harmony would wildly swirl about in this sanctuary of sound. 

 

_“Door of musk,”_

 

An outpouring of divine _half notes_ reigned over the space, the music feverishly climbing up into the very clouds that inspired it.

 

_“The secret kingdom of the water opens_

_Flowing from the center of the night.”_

 

The notation followed the paths of waves in the middle of the night, their voices rocking back and forth through _crescendos_ and _decrescendos_ as they all willingly dove back into _mezzo-piano._

 

_“And if you close your eyes,_

_A river, a silent and beautiful current,”_

 

As with any choral deluge, it can and will eventually ease into a calmer stream of sound.

 

_“Fills you from within,”_

 

Even when harmonious waves seem to fervently grow inside vocal oscillations,

 

_“Flows forward,_

_Forward,”_

 

There comes a point where the maelstrom gives way to a simpler eddies.

 

_“Darkens you.”_

 

And when a _fermata_ of stillness overtakes a piece without resolving it outright, there can be a sense of relief when the silence is at last broken.

 

_“Night brings its wetness_

_To beaches in your soul.”_

 

A rivulet of moving parts, a quieting whirl that brought the choirs back to the chord that started the piece, gently finishes the song and lets the resolution serenely descend into the crowd.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:18p** **m** _ **

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” But they were still giving their monsoon of praise, the spate of applause drowning out her announcement. Elsie took this as her cue to humour them and repeatedly murmur her thanks that they adored the piece that much. Though, really, she should be thanking Charles for suggesting it in the first place, even if the daft man insisted she conduct it.

 

Yes, well, turnabout's fair play. 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” She repeated once more, “Allow me to welcome to the stage for our final song of the evening,” Years of habit now seemed a bit silly, seeing as how their stage was currently a courtyard. “The fantastic French horn player, Madelyn Bloom!” 

 

A young woman Beryl had personally selected from her band kids, Miss Bloom had been waiting near one of the entrances for the last few minutes. And, having discreetly warmed up inside the building, Maddie hardly needed to do anything other than take her chair -- one set aside just for this -- near the Concert Choir and quickly run through her notes. While she did that, Elsie took a plot she’d concocted the second she was called to conduct “Water Night”.

 

“And, now, ladies and gentlemen,” The woman began, fondly smiling at the audience and maintaining a fairly respectful countenance, “Let us welcome back Mr. Carson to rightfully conduct tonight’s final song!”

 

Thunderous claps broke out at this, cheers for the choir director emitting as Elsie turned her back to the audience and fixed her colleague a very knowing stare. 

 

_You’re not getting out of this, you know,_ her eyes reminded him even as the man began to pull himself up from being sat at the keyboard. Elsie herself was already walking back toward the keyboard, a sense of relief coming from the fact that she wouldn’t be in the spotlight again. As enjoyable as it was, being in charge of that many voices took more energy than it used to.

 

“That wasn’t entirely fair, you know,” 

 

It was more of a quip and less of a complaint, whispered only for her as they crossed paths. 

 

“And what you did earlier was beyond reproach, was it?” 

 

But they both knew the other hardly minded, the whole act of bouncing back-and-forth between conductor and accompanist almost like a game by this point. And while that mischievous attitude certainly wouldn’t have been a part of either of their perspectives a year ago, it was now becoming another lovely part of their life together. 

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:21p** **m** _ **

 

When the audience had finally settled again and Charles was standing in his rightful spot, he nodded to Anna before cueing the French horn player to begin. As the optimistic tones sounded from the instrumentalist, the young singer began to share the piece’s message with the crowd.

 

_“‘Tis you that are the music,_

_Not your song.”_

 

The soprano openly smiled, gesturing in the direction where a certain Bass Choir chorister stood in the shadows. 

 

_“The song,”_ Andy began, his heart banging about his chest at _moderato_ while his legs took a few shaky steps from the courtyard wall to indicate that he was one of the soloists. Singing the original notes an octave lower than Anna, he couldn’t help but wonder how well this really blended. And as all eyes darted to him, he tried his best to take in stride -- remembering that he could do this solo and he had already done this countless times in rehearsal.

 

_“Is but a door which,_

_Opening wide,”_

 

Motioning to the other side of the courtyard where a fair amount of Bel Canto stood, Andy was ecstatic that he could now retreat back into being another member of the choir. Oh, he did love the fact that he got a solo at last, but it had been downright unnerving having all those eyes looking at him.

 

_“Let’s forth,”_

 

Laura Foster was not nearly as put together as Anna, but she certainly had a beautiful style. And as traces of _vibrato_ etched itself into her words, she found it easier to maintain the notes.

 

_“The pent-up melody inside.”_

 

Beaming back at the Concert Choir, she signalled to the next singer to go whenever they wanted. After all, the choir teachers had informed each and every one of them that this was their time to shine, to have the audience realize just how talented they were. 

 

_“Your spirit’s harmony,”_

 

Moseley stepped up to stand alongside Anna, chuffed beyond belief he had managed to get a solo this semester -- and for a finale like this, too! And, singing in the same octave Andy had only moments before, he couldn’t keep the grin out of his face as he proceeded to sing.

 

_“Which clear and strong,”_

 

He turned to Mary, relinquishing the limelight to her as she now joined him and Anna -- the soprano clearly proud to be a part of this performance.

 

_“Sings but of you,”_

 

Mr. Carson strode back toward his normal spot, hands lifting once more to cue everyone in as the French horn player chimed in.

 

_“Tis you,” “Tis you,_

_That are the music,_

_Not your song.”_

 

Rather different from the ethereal sounds of “Water Night”, this was a song designed to empower in an inherently contrasting fashion. Whereas the previous song blended Octavio Paz’s “Agua nocturna” -- a stunning Spanish poem -- with fantastic choral composition, “You Are The Music” went more for simple and invigorating notation with a clear, motivating message.

 

_“The song is but a door,” “A door_

_Which opening wide,”_

 

It strongly got to the point, melding the instrumental accompaniment of horn and keyboard together with the chorusing voices of hope. 

 

_“Let’s forth the pent up melody inside!_

_Your spirit’s harmony,_

_Which clear and strong,_

_Sings but of you.”_

 

Though, there was one thing this particular song did similarly to “Water Night”:

 

It spoke to its audience beautifully, being just as captivating and as beautiful in its own way.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:23p** **m** _ **

 

_“Throughout your whole life long,_

_Your songs, your thoughts, your doings,”_

 

She really hadn’t thought her original selection through, having been convinced that she wouldn’t have to sit through this. Rather, Emma Butte had been almost certain that she’d get to grace what looked to be a keyboard from this angle, instead of being stuck in the audience.

 

_“Each divide, each divide, “Each divide,_

_This perfect beauty,” “This perfect beauty.”_

 

Well, so much for perfect beauty. And truly, the courtyard just paled in comparison to the auditorium, honestly. _Oh, I am just_ so _sorry that the stage flooded today,_ she thought to herself as she tried to tune out the piece. The lyrics seemed content to flood her senses, reminding her that this had been her selection, and she frankly couldn’t stand it. 

 

_“Waves within a tide,” “Waves,_

_Waves within a tide!”_

 

And just what was it with the water theme, eh? So many silly songs involving water or making a reference to water or “blah blah blah water is so cool, isn’t it?”. Truly, it was like her ears were drowning instead of the stage area. 

 

_“Or single notes,_

_Or single notes,_

_Amid a glorious throng!”_

 

So, those chords were decent in this section. It seemed her influence of perfection, even if it had officially vacated the premises of Downton Academy for the last four months or so, had never left.

 

_“The song of Earth has many different chords,” “‘Tis you,”_

 

“Astonishing, isn’t it?” Emma Butte could hear someone whisper only a few seats away.

 

_Hardly._ She thought in response, unimpressed with the campy set-up. And, yes, she was still very well aware of the fact that she had been the one to suggest this song, originally. It had only been a minute or so since she was reminded of the fact, after all. 

 

_“Ocean,” “Ocean_

_Has many moods_

_And many tones.”_

 

And, seriously, she hardly expected them to stick with the piece after she’d left. Though, Emma could only suppose that just went to show how fantastic a planner she was when it came to finale pieces. It never occurred to her that, having obtained the music before she left, they had decided to stick with the choice and make the best of the situation.

 

_“Yet always,” “Always,_

_Ocean.”_

 

Furthermore, it also never occurred to her that nearly every soloist performing in this piece was a student she had tried to _guide_ down a different path. That these individuals had received this opportunity because of their talent she couldn’t recognize, budding talent she had dismissed as unworthy of cultivating.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:25p** **m** _ **

 

_“So is this,” “So is this one music!”_

 

Oblivious to the only critic in the crowd, the positive energy of the song flowed freely about the courtyard -- happily waving its sentiments into the crowd.

 

_“So is this,” “So is this one music_

_With a thousand cadences!”_

 

Fervorously reaching impossible heights, this gorgeous, tumultuous momentum of harmony continued to envelope its listeners.

 

_“One thousand cadences!_

_One thousand cadences!”_

 

As though the notes embroidered into words seemed to resonantly glow, the choirs charged forth into the chorus of the piece one more time.

 

_“‘Tis you that are the music,_

_Not your song!_

_The song is but a door which,_

_Opening wide,”_

  
  


_“Let’s forth, “Let’s forth the pent up melody!_

_‘Tis you that are the music,”_

 

Reigning in the sound one last time, Mr. Carson turned to Mrs. Hughes and Miss Bloom for a rousing continuation of the melodic themes. This was followed by his pivoting back to face the Concert Choir and cue Anna once more.

 

_“Let’s forth,”_ The young woman let her voice regally carry itself into the crowd, her eyes beaming with more than an inkling of pride. _“The pent up melody inside.”_

 

She turned, kindly signalling to a certain Bass Choir singer that he had the floor for his solo.

 

_“Your spirit’s harmony,”_ Henry Lang began, not nearly as withdrawn or scared as he might’ve been a year ago, let alone four months ago. _“Which clear and strong,”_

 

It was an unusually calm Claire Morris, a Treble Choir girl who had once jumped in fear at the sound of one Emma Butte, that had the pleasure of finishing the solos for the year with a soothing,

 

_“Sings but of you.”_

 

The rest of the choirs joined her as their voices basked in their own version of, _“Sings but of you.”_

 

And so, with a few more hints of a lovely keyboard intertwining itself with a French horn, the Downton Academy concerts of the 2018-2019 school year came to an end. And with it came an official marker that life for the choirs was going to get a lot easier from here on out.

 

At least, in regards to concerts and competitions, that is.

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:34p** **m** _ **

  


 “In spite of the change in scenery, it was just as splendid a job as I anticipated, Mrs. Hughes!” Martha Levinson imperially strode up to the choir teachers with more than just a gleam of pride and smugness. Elsie took the praise in stride, discreetly quieting Charles’s faint irritation with a calming hand. “More than worth the trip back to this old spot.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Levinson--”

 

“Please, call me Martha.” Both teachers were more than a little astonished at the suggestion, as it did border far past the audacious. “I insist.”

 

“Thank you, Martha,” More than a little dazed by the conversation, Elsie still managed to take it all in stride. “But, it was not only me who was involved. Mr. Carson, and the students for that matter, certainly--”

 

“Mr. Carson was wise enough not to question your command, true. And the students were smart enough to listen as well, yes.” Realizing she was not going to win this argument, Elsie resigned herself to the strewn of compliments being thrown in her direction. Though, judging from the look in his eyes, Charles carried as much pride about the matter as Mrs. Levinson did -- if not more. “But, it was you at the helm, surely you can’t deny that?”

 

“Oh, Mrs. Hughes, I was wondering if I might have a word.” 

 

She really could almost always count on Isobel to save her when it came to these sorts of interactions, truly.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Crawley?” Though, in this case, it seemed she’d have to leave Charles in the company of Mrs. Levinson, judging from Isobel’s maneuvering her away. Unbeknownst to her, that is _exactly_ what Mrs. Levinson wanted. After all, she didn’t think this next conversation required much tact, but she hardly wanted to appear too crass in the eyes of Mrs. Hughes. Appearing too crass in the eyes of Mr. Carson, however, was just a treat.

 

“And where is Mrs. Boot? I hadn’t seen her in the program, though I thought I saw her skulking in the back here.” Martha bluntly inquired, focusing her sharp gaze on the choir director. He paused in his response, gathering his wits to cordially engage in answering. For all of his vexation and exhaustion with Emma, he was determined to remain a professional about the matter.

 

Until her full statement caught up.

 

“You saw Mrs. Butte tonight?” The woman nodded, turning back to point to the back of the crowd.

 

“There she is, talking to another woman.” And there Emma was, talking with another colleague from Carlisle. Why she was here, when she’d made her sentiments toward Downton so painstakingly clear, was escaping him. All he knew was that, whatever was going on, he probably wouldn’t approve of her behaviour.

 

Still, forcing himself to turn back to Mrs. Levinson, he reminded himself that there was hardly anything deviant about showing up to a concert. Though, it seemed the American had a different opinion, judging from her open curiosity.

 

 “And, look, I think even Mrs. Hughes is going over there to talk to her!”

 

He whirled back around in the direction the pair of women stood, watching as Elsie clearly strode toward them -- a certain look of obstinacy in her eye.

 

“Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Carson,” Martha continued, seemingly unaware of his rising concern. “I have something I wanted to give Mrs. Hughes.”

 

He took the envelope without question, his mind not even registering its existence as he focused solely on Elsie approaching the pair. All three women seemed to register the incoming interaction, variations of false smiles painting themselves on the performers as they seemed to ready themselves for battle.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Levinson,” He distractedly said, oblivious to her eye-roll and growing smirk. “My apologies, but I think I must attend to something.”

 

She nodded, acquiescing without her normal sass. But, the American hadn’t minded the choir director leaving her; after all, even if she wanted to get the honest dirt on Emma Butte she already knew Charles Carson wouldn't hand it over. Elsie Hughes, on the other hand, might  _accidentally_ let something slip.

 

And, speaking of Mrs. Hughes, it now looked like the woman was on the warpath. It wasn’t easy to tell, and most people wouldn’t have noticed in that crowd. But Martha knew the kind of woman she was, and knew what that particular demeanour of hers was spelling out. 

 

“Mrs. Levinson, is that you?” Ugh, why did these snobs care about her money? “Oh, I am so delighted to see you here tonight!”

 

_._

 

**_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:38p** **m** _ **

 

Charles continued to relentlessly make his way over to where the newly formed trio stood, forgetting everything else as he darted over as fast as he could under the circumstances. Knowing Elsie’s feelings toward Emma, as well as the reverse, he knew their current conversation would not end well if it continued much longer.

 

But, there were crowds of people in his way, throngs of voices chorusing some version of congratulations about a great show. Add it to that the trio of women was proceeding to quietly slip through one of the courtyard’s side exits most people didn’t know about, and he could only conclude that he was running out of time.

 

So, the choir director shrugged the compliments off with as much grace as he could muster, not interested in the praise as tried his best to weave through the never-ending groups of people. Keeping his eyes on the three women, noticing how the air in their section of the courtyard was darkening in energy, their expressions growing tenser the closer they got to the exit, he wanted to make sure he arrived before it got out of--

 

“Elsie!” 

 

They were already gone.

_._

 

****_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:36p** **m** _ **  
**

 

When Elsie had spotted Emma in the crowd, the latter subtly making her escape, her instincts told her to investigate. And when she saw Emma’s new colleague join her, a Phoebe Miller if she wasn’t mistaken, Elsie could only feel more suspicious. Though Phoebe hadn’t struck her as an untrustworthy person, she was from Carlisle Institute.

 

“I am sorry, Isobel, but I think I need to check on something,” She apologized to the woman, who graciously accepted it with no complaints. The choir teacher then turned around and made her way toward Emma, gathering her wits and patience while she did so. Without any sort of explanation, Elsie knew that she needed to approach this carefully, even if she instinctively despised her former colleague’s presence.  

 

“Mrs. Butte, Miss Miller!” She had called out, her voice calmly shooting itself through the crowd and stopping Emma in her tracks. “What brings you ladies here tonight?”

 

Phoebe remained still whilst Emma coolly turned in her place, a polite smile plastered upon her lips as her calculating eyes continued to judge the situation.

 

“Carlisle always supports our fellow schools, especially when it comes to music.” Elsie couldn’t help but feel like she was being lied to, but didn’t want to call her out on it just yet. “Francesca herself said that I was to go tonight to support Downton.”

 

That statement was most definitely inaccurate, and Elsie considered herself quite fortunate she wasn’t the only one to realize it. 

 

“That’s a lie, Emma, and you know it!” Phoebe Miller snapped without a second thought, appearing to have long since lost her patience with her colleague, a look of indignation taking over her face. “While we are making an effort to support our fellow schools, Francesca would _never_ send you to Downton!”

 

“Phoebe,” Emma hissed, clearly not pleased. “Were you there when I talked to her about the matter?” The colleague fell silent, still not believing a word even if she couldn’t outright dispute that. “I didn’t think so.”

 

Elsie took in this interesting relational dynamic with ease, choosing not to verbally judge it. It wouldn’t suit her need to find out what brought Emma here, even though it was interesting to observe.

 

“Yes, well, how about I walk you both back to your cars? It’s getting dark outside and I’d hate for something to happen on the grounds.”

 

They couldn’t refuse, not if they wanted to maintain the pretense of polite manners. And, so, the trio headed through one of the side entrances of the courtyard, one that would allow them to enter an unoccupied part of the school and continue to chat.

 

“Did you ladies enjoy the show tonight?” Elsie asked, not wanting to have Emma feeling insulted enough to run off before she could find out just what the former Downton teacher was doing here. And while talking about tonight’s show was probably going to throw salt into the woman’s clear wound, it was the only thing she could think to ask.

 

“I suppose it went well enough,” Emma conceded over Phoebe’s, “While I wasn’t able to catch the full act, I loved what I saw!”

 

Elsie nodded, impartially listening as they proceeded through the quiet hall, “Anything in particular you noticed? For better or worse, that is.”

 

Phoebe took over with a quick nod and an eager tone, “While having multiple soloists for the finale was a sweet touch for the message, if you ever bring that song to a competition you ought to stick to one strong soloist. And, while I adored your ‘Esto Les Digo’, they could milk their notes a little more, complete some of the phrases more fully. They were brilliant, but that could lead to them being _spectacular_. Also--”

 

“I personally found,” Emma acutely interrupted, unable to keep the scowl out of her voice even as she held onto a strained smile. “That, while each performance gave decent energy, their technical proficiency was lacking. Vowel modification was _endearing_ for ‘Pelican’ and it wasn’t the only one. It was also far too forward with the placement of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’, causing it to sound more nasally than anything else. Furthermore, the Treble choir didn’t convince me they knew all of their notes for ‘Songbird’. And, don’t get me started on the Latin of ‘Vox Populi’.”

 

“You did ‘Vox Populi’?” Phoebe asked in wonderment, having recalled their original performance of it. “I still have goosebumps from when I heard it live the last time!”

 

Elsie gave a small smile at this, catching the fact that Emma had critiques for only the choirs _she_ had conducted. Phoebe, on the other hand, had a more balanced array of feedback.

 

“Yes, well, the room had been drafty!” The former Downton employee retorted, continuing to lose her composure. “And, speaking of performance rooms, I am _so_ terribly sorry your auditorium flooded earlier! It must have been a shock to manage that on top of everything else!”

 

“That’s why the show was outside?” Phoebe inquired, having recalled that Downton did have a working auditorium. She’d just assumed that they’d chosen the courtyard because it was an excellent space for a spring concert. “I’m so sorry to hear that!”

 

But, Elsie had frozen as something clicked together. It had been a question as to how Green knew the basement area well enough that he’d been able to sneak down into it alone. That, as well as the feeling that Braithwaite and Green hadn’t been acting alone, had been niggling away at her ever since the police had arrived.

 

“I never mentioned the stage flooding, Mrs. Butte.”

 

“Didn’t you? Earlier, when you were explaining why the show was taking place outside?” The woman’s face twitched a bit more at this, her eyes struggling not to glare at Elsie. “I had been so upset when I heard, having put on many exquisite performances in that room.”

 

“Mrs. Butte,” Now that Elsie knew the woman was outright lying, her patience was diminishing significantly. “I never mentioned the stage flooding because that’s not why we had to change locations.”

 

“But--”

 

“Emma,” Now Phoebe’s tone was lacking in patience. “What did you do?”

 

“Me? What could I have possibly done?” 

 

Elsie paused in their walk, taking a step forward toward the woman, ire rapidly growing. If her former colleague was the reason Anna had been in danger today, if her former colleague was the cause of all this _ridiculous_ drama, she would not be held responsible for her next actions.

 

“You were behind his sneaking into the school, weren’t you?” She tersely spoke, a _tremolo_ heat crackling within her words. “You encouraged her to sabotage the stage, didn’t you?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re insinuating, Mrs. Hughes,” Emma continued to deny, her voice turning colder than before. “And I’d advise you to refrain from accusing me of something you don’t have evidence for.”

 

“Emma,” Phoebe acerbically spoke, “If any of this is true, whatever it is, Francesca and I will have to question whether or not you should remain at Carlisle. And I have strong reason to believe that whatever she’s talking about is true. You did have a student visit yesterday, and--”

 

“Braithwaite's visit had _nothing_ to do with today!” Emma hissed, her glare reflecting more of her true emotions. “And you can’t prove a thing!”  


“Did I or Miss Phoebe mention Edna Braithwaite by name?” Elsie sharply asked, keeping her eyes firmly on the woman. “All that was said was that a student apparently visited you.” 

 

“Mrs. Hughes,” But whatever Phoebe was going to say had been drowned out by a fervent, “Mrs. Hughes!” It looked like Charles had finally managed to escape the crowds and catch up to the trio inside the building. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Perfectly fine, Mr. Carson,” The choir teacher lightly responded, “Emma here was just telling us why and how she attempted to _sabotage_ today's concert!”

 

The problem is, that statement had a gaping mistake within it. For the woman in question had no intention of elaborating on today's sabotage. And, due to the distraction that Mr. Carson’s arrival cause, Emma Butte was quite ready to correct said mistake.

 

Slapping away Phoebe’s grip on her shoulder, she shoved her colleague and former friend to the ground before turning toward the woman who had stolen everything away from her. The woman who, in the course of only five months, had mercilessly replaced her _and_ ruthlessly devastated her reputation at Downton forever. The woman who merrily skipped into 403 to claim it as her own domain when she’d hardly the right to do as such, the woman who presumed she knew _so_ much about how to treat the students when she’d hardly ever taught before. 

 

Well, this time, Emma gave that woman far more than just a glare.

 

Elsie had hardly expected the wind to be knocked out of her as she found herself being thrown in the direction of the floor, Emma’s suppressed loathing and wrath from these last few months creating a horrendous strength within the woman. Even as the Downton teacher heard her name shouted again in the distance, even as a horrified shriek rapidly emitted from Phoebe, it all sounded like she was being hurled underwater -- Emma’s force was that overwhelming.

 

“How dare you take everything away from me!” The former employee practically screamed, feverishly trying to attack the choir teacher who defensively curled in on herself, trapped on the floor. “How dare you take _everything_ after all these years!”

 

Well, this would simply **not** do. 

 

Elsie threw her arms up in defense against the blows, her own fury soon overriding the shock that had come with being caught off-guard as well as the pain from slamming into the floor. Ignoring the throbbing of her body, her ears zoned in on hearing only the sounds of the incoming assaults, her heartbeat caught and timed the pacing that drove the actions, and she rapidly found herself having had _enough_ of this.

 

Pushing through what felt like _swung time_ punches, Elsie forcibly brought herself to her knees and held her hands closely in front of her chest -- as though she were demanding a choir reach the dynamic of _pianissimo_ \-- before shoving Emma back. Then, seeing as how the woman in front of her remained shocked but unswervingly persistent about regaining the upper hand, Elsie proceeded to slap her as though she were harshly cueing a section in to sing -- a controlled movement that stung with the firmness any conductor worth their salt had. And when Emma still did not get the message, nearly snarling as she struggled to rise to her feet, the choir teacher chucked all of her composed movements out and settled for pinning the fuming woman to the ground.

 

“How dare I?” Her _sotto voce_ tone was frostier than Scotland in January, finally shutting the former employee up as Emma began to realize the danger she was tempting. “How dare _I_?” She mercilessly repeated, her muscles engaging to disperse her weight appropriately and keep this woman on the unforgiving floor.

 

“How dare I, asks the woman who has _destroyed_ the confidence of dozens of singers, who has _ruined_ the experience of singing for so many. How dare I, asks the woman whose _impossible standards_ were built only to crush those who were just getting started, the woman who _tormented_ more students than I’ve ever taught.” Elsie’s commanding presence alongside her own stony grip proceeded to hold her former colleague forcibly in place, the Scottish Dragon verbally ripping the woman into pieces. There was enough fire in her frigid tone to keep both Phoebe and Mr. Carson  frozen in disbelief, watching as the woman continued to deliver her fierce _coda._

 

“I can hardly understand what has you, Emma Butte, think you’ve the right to be in charge of the livelihood of these students. And I do not _ever_ want to understand what has you believe your equivalent of ‘ _perfection_ ’ deserves to exist.” To call these words acerbic would be to say Elsie was only miffed at the circumstances. “You have no right to be a teacher, let alone someone in charge of a choir. And when we prove as such -- because we _will_ , you mark my words -- you can be guaranteed you will never be given the opportunity to teach, let alone go near _any_ choir, again.” 

 

In the silence of what could only be classified as a justified tongue-lashing, only the growing sound of ragged breathing could be heard.

 

“You think you’re so superior, don’t you?” Emma growled, even as her eyes carried more terror than anything else.

 

“Hardly,” Elsie bluntly informed the woman, “But that’s why we’re different: I’m willing to learn, you only dictate.”

 

Without moving her eyes from Emma, “Ms. Miller, would you be so kind as to phone the police?” The teacher retained a firm grip and a watchful eye as her colleague did so. “And, Mr. Carson, can you go outside inform the students who are desperately waiting to have us meet their families that we will both be out as soon as possible?”

 

“The students can wait, Mrs. Hughes,” He quickly argued, not wanting to leave her out of his sight. She may have the upper hand now, but he knew Emma was driven enough to consider attempting escape. “Besides, the police shouldn’t take more than five minutes if you, Ms. Miller, inform them that a teacher was assaulted.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it that, Mr. Carson.” Emma snapped from her spot on the floor. “If anything, I think Mrs. Hughes did the most damage!” 

 

“I have half a mind to tell Mr. Carson and Ms. Miller to turn around so I can live up to that assessment,” Elsie coldly warned, “But, then again, unlike you, I listen to my conscience.”

 

She was now referring to how the woman let this petty feud, one that Emma herself created when there was no legitimate reason to do so, escalate to the level it did today.

 

“Mrs. Hughes, may I offer you a position at Carlisle Institute?” Phoebe asked in awe, knowing what the answer would most likely be and still needing to ask.

 

“You may certainly not.” Elsie politely informed the woman, “What you can do, is to make sure your future hiring practices are more thorough than they've apparently been. That is, once you’ve called the police.”

 

“Yes,” Phoebe admitted with a cringe. She had thought her old friendship with Emma would mean that, when the woman finally left Downton and let it all go, she’d be able to come back to her older self. That had clearly been naive on her part, to say the least. “That was clearly stupid of me.”

 

The Carlisle staff-member’s guilt was visible for everyone in the room to see. And though Charles was content to let it remain that way, being understandably upset over the matter, Elsie knew it wasn’t right to let the woman remain stuck in it. 

 

“It’s alright, Phoebe,” The choir teacher quietly spoke, making sure there was a _legato_ quality of reassurance within her voice. “We all wish to turn back time at some point in life.”

 

She was speaking of the students that had suffered, the singers who had hardly a chance to grow as performers before they were knocked down by the very people who were in charge of cultivating their talent. The individuals who should have been brilliant, but were pushed aside in favour of ridiculous expectations. 

 

“There was nothing you could, Mrs. Hughes.” Phoebe understood perfectly well the woman’s own guilt, sending her a sympathetic glance even as she continued to dial. 

 

“Wasn’t there?” She tiredly asked, glaring right at Emma without needing any prompting. Much to the surprise of those in the room, the woman -- who was still pinned to the floor -- did not challenge the statement or snark back a pithy retort of some kind.

 

Well, there’s a first for everything.

 

_._

 

****_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 9:53p** **m** _ ** **

 

After the police had arrived and collected Emma, Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson proceeded to return to the crowded courtyard. Though many students had begun to leave the space, many more wanted to introduce their families to the teachers and take selfies as well as regular pictures. 

 

And, yes, Elsie did make sure Charles actually took selfies with those who wanted it, not allowing him to escape this part of post-concert activities. And while she did that, Phoebe and Beryl stood nearby, making sure that neither of the choir teachers were overwhelmed with the sudden attention. This was in silent agreement between the two ladies that they’d make sure there were no more surprises courtesy of one Emma Butte.

 

Luckily, it truly seemed like those moments of surprise and drama were finally coming to an end.

 

_._

****_**Friday, the 10th of May, 2019 -- 10:47p** **m** _ ** **

  


“Well, Mrs. Hughes,” She turned at the sound of Charles’ voice, knowing the weariness that overtook his tone was only due to the day they’d had. “I dare say that _that_ was a success.”

 

She freely smiled at this, her relief overtook her. “I think I’m inclined to agree, Mr. Carson.”

 

They had finally gotten the last of the risers put away, the chairs borrowed for the show back in all the appropriate classrooms. Windows were closed, rooms were locked, and they could now safely say their work for the day was done. 

 

Though, there was one last thing he had completely neglected.

 

“Charles? Is everything alright?” The man was currently searching his pockets, a look of relief upon his face as he discovered the envelope he’d totally forgotten about.

 

“It is now,” Turning to his bewildered companion, “Mrs. Levinson wanted to give you this.”

 

“Did she now?” Elsie accepted the envelope easily enough, “My, my.” 

 

She remained fairly level-headed until she saw what lay inside the envelope. Then the woman was positively dumbstruck for a solid minute, an uncharacteristic action if ever there was one.

 

“Well?” He felt as though he were on the edge of a seat, even though they were just outside the main entrance of the school and there weren’t any seats in sight.

 

“Charles,” Elsie was breathless with shock, disbelieving. “She’s-- she’s made a donation to the Chicago competition,”

 

“She has?” It had to be a tidy sum; Elsie hadn’t quite controlled her pitch. 

 

“And she’s made a request to be invited to the wedding,” His eyebrows furrowed at this, not only confused as to how she knew about it when he hadn’t even proposed yet, but also feeling frustrated -- having not really wanting her there. “As well as a recommendation for something to do while we’re in Chicago.”

 

“I take it she’ll be receiving an invitation in the mail?” Charles tiredly asked, as Elsie handed over the check. His eyes proceeded to nearly bulge with shock as his hands fidgeted unintentionally with the piece of paper. “No doubt she’ll be one of the first we invite!”

 

She scowled good-naturedly at him, “That’s technically _my_ check, Mr. Carson, I’ll kindly take it back now, thank you.”

 

“But, wouldn’t you want it kept safely out of sight?” He was most certainly teasing her in this moment. “Suppose it were to be misplaced before you could bring it to the bank?”  


“Suppose you lose it yourself?” Elsie dryly began, rising to her tiptoes again as she gave him a sweet, distracting peck on the lips, “Suppose the Crawleys demand it goes to the math department?” Another peck, this time bordering on a proper kiss, as she reached a hand out to take it back, “Suppose an American steals it to help pay off their student debts?”

 

“Suppose you two forget about the competition altogether and spend it on yourselves for once, eh?” Beryl unapologetically piped up as she came walking out of the school like the cat who caught the canary. They immediately separated from each other, the check safely tucked back in its envelope as the pair blushed much like their students might’ve at being caught together. “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been looking for you two.”

 

“Is everything alright, Mrs. Patmore?” Her embarrassment at being caught quickly morphed into curiosity, knowing that the band director wasn’t just staying late to be supportive.

 

“It is,” She reassured easily, not really upset with the situation. In all honesty, not that she’d tell them this, she’d hardly looked for them at all. Beryl had simply waited by the steps inside the main entrance with Mr. Mason, chatted with him until William was ready to leave and the pair departed. Then she shamelessly eavesdropped on her friends when they eventually walked by quite unawares, and waited for the best moment to interrupt them. “Mrs. Crawley told me a fair amount of the parents had been in awe of the show and, upon hearing that you were still fundraising, decided to pitch in a little to help.” 

 

Another envelope, this one filled with checks and pound notes alike, was soon finding itself in the hands of Elsie. “You should also check the GoFundMe in a week, she said,” Beryl added in a rather pleased tone. 

 

“Thank you, Beryl,” Charles intoned most seriously. What with the police requiring their presence longer than they anticipated, on top of the additional time it took to break everything down and take it all back the proper places, it really had been quite kind of her to wait around and do this for them. “This means more than we could possibly say.”

 

“Indeed,” Elsie echoed the sentiment, giving her dearest friend an enormous hug for the help.

 

And it was those two comments, that moment of gratuity, that made Beryl Patmore’s day. Not the overflowing administrative compliments about her show from earlier -- though that was fairly amazing, in all honesty -- but the fact that her friends had truly appreciated this simple act. 

 

“‘Course,” She couldn’t help but tease, more than a little overwhelmed and needing to find familiar ground, as they continued to pick up the pace again, “I still think you could elope to Alaska with that money and nobody’d bat an eyelash.”

  
“Alaska? What do you mean?” “Beryl Patmore, you _were_ talking about Alaska earlier today!” 


	35. A Ringing Step and the Right Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As someone who has never thought rings would be a part of my life, I’m pleasantly surprised at the turn this has taken. Moreover, I’m astonished at the amount of research one can get into when it comes to ring-shopping. With that being said, I’ve given it my best go with everything going on. Maybe at some point in the future, I might have actual experience that’ll help to properly edit what I’ve put together. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, in this chapter, it's all about the ring shopping. We'll get back to wrapping up the rest of the details and either finish this story in 1-2 chapters!
> 
>  
> 
> Important note for people who know about realistic engagement ring shopping: I’m going to take liberties on the speed in which rings can be purchased and the likes. I’ll also definitely be playing around with what a local ring shop would actually have, because why not?
> 
>  
> 
> _._

 

 

**Sunday, the 11th of May, 2019 - 6:59am**

 

It had been a quaint series of back-and-forth texts that had started with one astonishing message:

 

**_What do you think about ring shopping today? -- CC_ **

 

Astonishment aside, the woman he'd been texting had  _several_ opinions about the concept.

 

**_What are you doing up this early, Mr. Carson? We just finished a concert, you should be asleep -- EH_ **

 

**_Also, do you truly need to ask, you daft man? -- EH_ **

 

**_I’d say the same for you. -- CC_ **

 

**_And, yes. -- CC_ **

 

He had wanted to say that, no, he needed only to know she was awake before dropping by so they could go on this adventure. But, not only did that feel a little unfair had she been asleep, it also wasn’t his style. Or, at least, it wasn’t his style yet. Much as he eventually wanted to plan wonderful surprises like this for her, their relationship needed more cultivation before he could dare to enact such plans.

 

Though, future style or not, he just realized something:

 

**_Calling me a daft man is not an answer. -- CC_ **

 

**_I’ll be over there in a bit. By that point, Stephanie’s Room should be open. Mind, they’ll probably be the only ones this early on a Saturday morning -- EH_ **

 

**_Right. What does ‘a bit’ mean, time wise? Are we talking minutes or hours? -- CC_ **

 

**_… Elsie? -- CC_ **

 

**_Try days -- EH_ **

 

**_Unrealistic and unbearable, Mrs. Hughes -- shall we rehearse that again? -- CC_ **

 

**_Nope. And *perfectly acceptable and brilliant, Elsie -- you’ve done it again -- EH_ **

 

**_What does * mean?? -- CC_ **

 

**_It means it’ll take me years to get to you at this rate -- EH_ **

 

_._

 

**Sunday, the 11th of May, 2019: 7:37am**

 

He’d been on the verge of giving up on waiting for her and walking over to her place. Had even had his hand on the door knob, ready to face the brisk May morning head on if it meant getting to go ring shopping sooner. 

 

In retrospect, her knock had been perfectly timed. 

 

In the present moment, it had scared him half to death. 

 

“Charles? Are you alright?” Elsie had asked through the door, clearly having heard his alarmed yelp.

 

“Fine, thank you for that.” He quietly grumbled, before giving her a far more cordial response. Though, all grumblings and any such equivalents were promptly swept away when the man finally opened the door.

 

Rarely did he get this beautiful vision at 7:38am in the morning. The wind had lovingly played her hair a bit, wisps of brown strands with auburn hints having escaped her simple bun and framing her face quite nicely. And though Elsie’s posture seemed as relaxed as the drifting skies before them, clouds scattered here and there, there was still a burning acknowledgement in her eyes -- an excited and serious gleam, one that understood the journey they were about to embark upon today.

 

“Right.” 

 

Well, Charles had nothing planned after that. No quips, no queries, just a blankness that had ascended upon his thoughts the second the door had opened.

 

“Right.” Elsie echoed, the situation starting to catch up with the woman. It didn’t feel real, the fact that they had impulsively thought to go out and look at rings. Honestly, she felt as though she were in the looking glass and would be waking up back into reality any second now. "Shall we then?"

  
  
He had been ready to storm the ring shops this morning, had been prepared to do battle with salespeople determined to win them over. But in this moment, the man was sharply struck with one thing he needed to say before they proceeded.

 

“Elsie, I’m afraid I’m not really knowledgeable about rings in general,” Charles confessed with more sheepishness than he’d personally liked, practically sighing even as she continued to take his arm. “I’m not sure where to begin or who to consult in these matters.”

 

“Charles,” Her eye-roll went amiss, if only because he was berating himself for lack of knowledge. “Joe had hardly consulted me about the matter when he’d made his selection,”

 

_ Which means?  _ It’s a question he wasn’t going to ask, still a bit hesitant to discuss these matters. Luckily for him, she was willing to continue elaborating.

 

“So I hardly know a thing myself. That’s one of the reasons we’re doing this  _ together _ .” Accidentally emphasizing that last word sent butterflies into Elsie’s stomach, her hold on his arm tightening for a moment almost as a reflex from the adrenaline rush. But, it was true: not only was this a wise action -- and a rather sweet thought, contrary to what Beryl may think -- this was also a good way to start their new life together. They may not be married just yet, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make decisions like this together.

 

“And before I forget,” Elsie murmured to herself, fishing out her phone from her purse.

 

“Hmm?”

 

She sent a fond glance at the man before her,  _ her  _ man, as they continued to walk in the direction of the first shop. And, trusting him to lead them both whilst she sent a text, Elsie shot off a quick message.

 

**_Going ring shopping today. Wish us luck -- EH_ **

 

Although it had taken the receiver a fair amount of time to respond -- read, twenty-three minutes instead of the normal twelve -- the response had been endearingly worth it.

 

**_!!!!!!!!!!! -- BP_ **

 

_._

 

**Saturday, the 11th of May, 2019 -- 8:18am**

 

They were lucky: Stephanie’s Room was opened as early as 8 o’clock today, which meant they didn’t need to wait until 11am for all the other jewelry establishments. This had Charles sighing in relief whilst Elsie merely arched an eyebrow at his behaviour, pleasantly surprised by the fact that he looked as enthusiastic as she felt. Yet, just as something had halted him earlier, there was one thing that tempered said enthusiasm for her. And it was only once they stepped up to the shop that a flash of memory  properly slipped through her mind and officially forced her to stop them again. 

 

“Charles,” He was already focused solely on her the moment she’d stopped them. “There’s only one request I have about this.” 

 

They hadn’t really discussed details beyond a budget because that had seemed the only necessary detail at the time. However, at the sight of the rings there came memories of something she’d long since forgotten. Something she was surprised she was still impacted by, all things considered.

 

“Yes, Elsie?”

 

Forcing herself not to bite her lip, bringing her gaze to his eyes instead of somewhere safe and in the distance, she gave him a faint smile as blue eyes unwittingly reflected heart-aching recollections. But, after a minute the eloquent words still weren’t in sight, so she had to settle for fumbling around with her elaboration.

 

“It’s just that, Joe gave me a diamond ring when he proposed,” He managed to wait for her to finish, recognizing the  _ fermata  _ in her statement. “And, so, I’d rather not have a diamond ring this time.”

 

Even though diamonds were the most traditional choice for engagement rings, he didn’t care for tradition if it was going to hurt her. And if this specific tradition only brought with it a sense of grief, he wasn’t going to partake in it.

 

“Of course we don’t have to get you a diamond ring.” Hints of tears emerged at this, relief flooding her eyes. And, in an effort to lighten the mood, “Though I do hope we’ll consider diamonds for my ring -- they do compliment my complexion ever so nicely.” 

 

This coaxed the hearty chortle he’d been craving since the tears appeared, the one that told him she was genuinely tickled. The one that also spoke to the fact that her grief, an anguish that'd crept into her demeanour when he wasn't looking, was fading away for a lighter countenance. That, tears or not, she was almost ready to begin this.

 

“Right, then,” Charles beckoned to the door of the shop. “Shall we ask to see only the rings that have other gemstones? I heard you can also ask to be show rings that will allow for substitutions.”

 

Nodding, suddenly a bit playful herself,  “Didn’t you say you knew nothing about this, Mr. Carson?” 

 

“Oh, I never said  _ that _ , Mrs. Hughes!” 

 

_._

 

**Saturday, the 11th of May, 2019 -- 8:27am**

 

It only figured that someone would spot them long before they’d even found the rings they were looking for.

 

“Cora,” Isobel curiously began, drawing her cousin’s attention immediately. “Is that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?”

 

The administrator peered about in the direction her cousin was looking, taking stock of the two figures in the distance. Having been running groceries together, the two women were pleasantly taken with this little surprise.

 

“You know, I think it is!” But, before she even thought of approaching them, Cora noticed something else. “Isn’t Stephanie’s Room a jewelry shop?”

 

Now, neither woman squealed as the obvious conclusion drew itself together. However, there was a certain giddiness in their tones as they carried on with grocery shopping, now immensely intrigued by the set-up. A sense of exhilarating delight for their fellow staff-members, a supportive delight, took over their chatter and guided their voices to a higher pitch of glee. 

 

And if either one or the other ended up interrogat-- conversing with either Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson about the matter come Monday, that would be entirely coincidental.

  
  


_._

 

**Saturday, the 11th of May, 2019 -- 8:31am**

 

“And these are all rings that the diamond can be substituted for?” Elsie calmly asked, needing to confirm before she became too attached to anything. The assistant nodded, having already set up a grouping of rings for the couple to look at.

 

“Everything here can be substituted for at least three other gemstones: pearl, morganite, and opal.”

 

Letting her eyes focus on the pieces in front of her, Elsie allowed herself to look solely at the rings themselves. They’d arranged to be shown jewelry that firmly stayed within Charles’ budget -- he insisted on being the one to buy it, much as she may have tried to help split the price. 

 

_ Well, here goes. _

 

As she slips on the thin band, the diamond elegantly gleaming in the light, it hits them both just what future they were creating. For her, it's with a swell of pride and fondness that she realizes how different her life has altered ever since this fall -- and with that understanding comes a serene assurance about how the future is going to be. From a budding soloist to a choir teacher, her life has always involved music. It has not always, however, involved Charles Carson. And that fact, something that is both chilling and sweet, is fully enveloping her the further and further the ring slides onto her finger.

 

For him, he has a vision of what came next -- what would follow after they found the right rings -- and the flooring realization that he will adore every second of it. He is already bursting with pride at the sight of her here in this shop, knowing that she’d soon enough be his wife. How can that pride not expand into adoration? Seeing her walk down the aisle, waking up to the realization that they were husband and wife, getting the privilege to work with her, knowing that they would be as close to one another as they could possibly be, it all begins to occur him that this is finally becoming their future.

 

As the assistant describes the detailing of their first selection, Charles can’t help but already discover the traces of hesitancy in Elsie's examination. The concept is flooring in itself, that’s as clear as a high E _b_ , but this ring isn’t right. In fact, on a closer examination, he already knows why:

 

The silver band is elegant enough. However, the dozens of little white sapphires framing the piece made a bit too glitzy for her style. The worst part is, he can spot that as easily as he can catch a soprano singing the wrong note, that’s how wrong it feels. Yes, the diamond -- which they, of course, have already established will not be the final stone -- is a lovely and simple pear-shape, but as a whole it’s too extravagant.

 

“Perhaps we ought to try another one?” The assistant asks, having accurately assessed their mutual feelings toward the piece. “Yes, maybe this style will be more fitting,” 

 

Eyes casting down on the rings, the young man starts to focus on another -- his eyes having taken note of one ring in particular.

 

“I’d rather not try that one, thank you,” Charles quickly glances at her, concerned to see that lip biting has already begun. Though, why that’s the case, she will hopefully explain. Fortunately, she does: “That ring looks too much like the one Joe gave me.”

 

_ Oh, dear.  _ “Right, then.” The assistant smoothly changes course, thankfully not questioning who Joe was or why the air is suddenly tainted with melancholia. “In that case, is there one in particular you like?” 

 

“Not particularly,” Elsie confesses, having been distracted by the thought of Joe. The skipped ring doesn’t bring any truly negative feelings with it or any regrets. Yet she doesn’t want this beautiful day to be overshadowed by what her time with Joe had been. Taking a brief glimpse at Charles, the woman notices where his downcast gaze is directing itself at the moment. “But, I do believe Charles likes one in particular.”

 

At the sound of his name, the man gives a small double-take though she's already reaching to grasp the ring. It's pear-shape, though unlike the first ring it's flipped upside down and has only two smaller white sapphires as an accent. Stylish and tasteful, with a dashing silver sterling complement, it has Charles Carson written all over it. And, maybe, had they not agreed to do this together, this would have been his selection. 

 

Still, “No, that’s not quite right.” 

 

And, surprisingly enough, it's Charles who’d voice the opinion. Elsie felt similarly, but blinks a bit when she realizes who has given the suggestion to take it off.

 

“No,” She agrees, the ring easily sliding off. “It isn’t quite right.”

 

So they carry on in this fashion. Rings of almost all shapes and sizes are perused. Rose gold, sterling silver, it's all examined in an effort to be fair. Although Elsie already had a vision of what her engagement ring could look like, that has been a memory presented to her. Not a choice made together alongside her partner.

 

And, for today as well as from here on out, she really wants it to be  _their_ choice.

 

_._

**Saturday, the 11th of May, 2019 -- 11:14am**

 

Beryl had debated for ages about whether or not she should ring them up, to make sure they actually made it to at least one shop. It had taken all of Albert Mason’s reasoning to keep her from interrupting the experience -- the man having persuaded her to come out to a farmers market in a nearby town.

 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t at least text?”

 

“Quite sure, Beryl,” He bluntly said, now knowing that beating around the bush didn’t work for the woman. “And if they still haven’t said anything by 3 o’clock, then we can call them.”

 

“But, that’s still four hours away, surely we can--”

 

“Let’s give them until 3.” 

 

The woman sighed at this, knowing that he was probably right on this score even if she wanted to find out sooner how the afternoon went. But, with any luck, they would already be in the process of finding  _ the  _ ring and she’d get to hear all about within the hour.

 

Though, luck or not, she’d still be holding Albert to that promise. At 3:01pm, she fully expected to be conversing with Elsie, if not sooner. 

 

_._

**Saturday, the 11th of May - 12:25pm**

 

It was by pure accident that she noticed it. And it hadn't been in Stephanie's Room that it had happened. Stephanie's Room had been two shops ago, now they were in Alyni & Co., the last of the Downton jewelry shops. 

 

And, amongst the shimmering diamonds that lulled the overall focus of the search, there was one item in particular that inherently drew her focus.

 

“Elsie?” The assistant had left them alone for a moment, needing to help a newly arrived customer get sorted out. But, she was oblivious to that and the fact that Charles was curiously watching her as she gave this jewelry a go -- slipping the ring on as though she’d already purchased it.

 

Though the diamond sitting center of the piece quietly recalled her life with Joe, there was something about the white gold ring that felt right for her life with Charles. It was a simple statement piece with an oval cut, a tasteful hint of refinement within the rhodium finish. And with the beautiful detailing that trailed around the center gemstone there came a sense that this could be the one for her.

 

There was a similarity to other pieces in the shop, true. And still, this band -- this concept altogether -- felt far more fitting than anything else Elsie had tried so far.

 

“Have we found the one then?” Charles quietly asked, gently reaching out a hand and silently asking permission to hold hers. She gave permission in less than a heartbeat, a soothing clarity running down her spine as their hands met. A serene electricity, a riveting harmony even, washed over them both as instinct answered the question without saying a word:

 

_ Yes.  _

 

“Oh, that is beautiful!” A younger woman, a brunette who inadvertently witnessed their moment in her own perusal of the shop, couldn’t help but exclaim. Elsie couldn’t help but give a warm smile in return, noticing the sudden return of their store assistant at the sound of the stranger's exclamation. “Is it the one?”

 

Looking at Charles to confirm that this was something they were in agreement on, “I think it is.”

 

“And, since it came from that section,” The store assistant smoothly chimed in, “I already know what other stones the diamond can be substituted for.”

 

Without another word, the young man turned on his heel and went into the backroom of the store -- his temporary disappearance only serving to ignite further excitement. Now that a selection had been made, it was now time to see what refinement could be brought forth.

 

“What do you suppose he’ll show us now?” Charles had been unable to remain quiet much longer, even as he continued to hold Elsie’s hand -- helplessly admiring the ring with quite an endearing beam.

 

“With any luck, the answer to the meaning of life.” She dryly quipped, chuckling a bit at the sight of his eyebrows furrowing. Clearly, the man was not terribly amused at her wit -- he was obviously outright amused and struggling to maintain his serious demeanour at the teasing words.

 

But before Charles could retort something that’d only set off more laughter, the assistant had come back with bejeweled calvary. Setting before them several stones lined with a precision that had the choir director drooling just a bit, the couple began to fixate on the stunning, tangible possibilities.

 

“Garnet, amethyst, aquamarine, white spinel, emerald, alexandrite, ruby, peridot, blue spinel, tourmaline, rose zircon, blue topaz, tangerine, and onyx are all options to replace the diamond.” They all glowed divinely set upon the lush black fabric. Sparkling and refracting the store’s light so gorgeously, each piece held not only its own charm but also a legitimate right to be considered for the couple. “As for the two complementary gemstones, if you would like to substitute the cubic zirconia for something else, I am more than happy to bring out those options, too.”

 

“That’s quite alright.” Elsie murmured. The similarity of cubic zirconia -- CZ, for short -- to a diamond didn’t necessarily mean that even the complementary crystals had to be replaced. In fact, the fact that they looked similar without being diamonds felt as right as the overall ring itself. To her, it felt as though she was acknowledging her time with Joe without clinging to it as she might’ve once. 

 

The young man nodded, ever the professional, as the pair continued to inspect the beautiful potentials. The garnet and ruby piercingly struck the eye, the bold red having long since made its presence known. The blue topaz, blue spinel and aquamarine produced images of the sea without even trying, coaxing waves to emerge from their depths. The emerald and peridot gleamed in the distance, their soothing refractions bringing the stunning greens to life. The rose zircon and amethyst swept with them a placid feeling of tenderness, garnering a calm appreciation within their captivating hues. In its own corner, the tangerine lovingly glowed with the invigorating warmth of the sun. And, finally, the white spinel stood coolly out of the crowd alongside the onyx, the sharply contrasting shades drawing with them distinguishable style.

 

Yet, for all of these breathtaking qualities, there was one gemstone that held both of their gazes time and time again. One that was certainly not a traditional choice, but one that remained absolutely captivating. 

 

“Which one is this?” 

 

It was Elsie who inquired just a second before Charles, her eyes gesturing to the piece. 

 

With a serenity that shifted with every glimpse, this gemstone remained under close examination. A deep blue that melded into a gorgeous shade of greens and purples lay before them, an enthralling coloring that masterfully refracted complex coloring -- coloring that divinely shifted depending on the perspective. One look from a certain angle, and it was a deep sapphire blue; another look from that same angle seconds later, when the lighting had changed just a bit, and a magnificent royal purple emerged.

 

“That would be alexandrite.” The assistant informed them, an approving smile peeking through his impartial tone. “Though this particular alexandrite has been grown in a lab, it still retains the original beauty at a more affordable price.”  

 

“Which is?” Ever the frugal spender, price had not truly left Elsie’s thoughts.

 

“Since there would be a substitution fee,” He mentally calculated for a few seconds, unintentionally holding out the suspense, “It would cost in total approximately £330 as of right now. Of course, more specific pricing would be discussed in the back. But that would be the approximate estimate.”

 

£330 pounds. Not only was that well within a budget of £500, this was the one ring she could’ve said yes to at a far more expensive price. And, judging from the look Charles was sending her -- that his thoughts ran along a similar line of, _Yes, Elsie, this is all perfectly acceptable and we ought to just go for it._

 

In short, they could really make a go of this. 

 

“My, my,” The words were quietly spoken, her outward tone of neutrality belying the thrill she felt within. “I think we may have found the one.”

 

And though the woman’s words did not sound fully committed, the fact that her eyes hardly left the alexandrite -- quite frankly mesmerized by the gemstone -- spoke volumes.

 

_._

 

**Sunday, the 11th of May, 2019 - 12:36pm**

 

“Beryl, what did I say about waiting?”

 

But, the woman in question was already dialing up her best friend, the picnic basket long since forgotten. Albert didn’t really blame her, even if he thought she could’ve waited a few more hours before giving in to curiosity.

 

“Elsie?” Completely oblivious to the unamused stare he was now sending her, Beryl focused all of her attention on the phone call at hand. “Did you find the ring?”

 

A mite curious himself, Albert leaned a bit in the direction of the cell phone, his ears straining to catch the choir teacher’s words themselves. All he got was an excited tone, albeit one that was slightly flummoxed. And that hardly tone him anything.

 

“Well?” He asked when it looked like Beryl had received her answer, the woman’s face turning into a serious shade of attentiveness. “Did they or didn’t they?”

 

“It’s not a traditional choice, it’s something alexander-related.” The teacher confessed when she could, an enthused twinkle taking hold of her eyes as she let Elsie regale her over the phone. She herself had never heard of the stone, but if it made her friend happy then it made her happy.

 

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” He whispered, trying his best not to be heard. “Though, there’s no need to mention anything from me.”  _ They don’t know about our outing, of course. _

 

The band director nodded, though something seemed to have surprised her with the phone call.

 

“What do you mean, ‘is there someone else there’, Elsie? You know I hardly do anything on the weekends!” Resisting the urge to snort, and feeling no regrets if their little picnic were to be found out, Albert focused on watching Beryl work her way out of this one. “Though, speaking of other people, where’s Mr. Carson?” The woman smirked a bit at her friend’s response, a tease ensuing, “He’s buying the ring while you talk to me, eh? That was very kind of you, not trying to pay for it yourself.”

 

Knowing Elsie Hughes’ character as well as he did, which is to say only what Beryl has told him over the last school year, the man couldn’t help but feel that that probably was along the lines of what the woman would’ve wanted to do. This, as well as her equivalent of a cackle as she ended the phone call, only prompted him to follow suit.

 

“I take it Mrs. Hughes didn’t care for her act to be classified as ‘kind’?” Albert lightly asked, with no real question in his tone. For such a facetious question, Beryl only shot him a knowing look before taking the last of the sandwiches. He made a noise of protest, having liked those sandwiches of hers almost as much as her company, but the woman only proceeded to nibble into the bread.

 

“Serves you right for such cheek,” She playfully stated, a hand in front of her mouth as she finished the bite. And after only seconds of watching her in such an endearing spot, Albert couldn’t help but reach a hand to rest on hers.

 

“Does it now?” He calmly asked, even as his heart pounded louder than a tractor hard at work. She stilled a bit herself, recognizing that this was an entirely different conversation.

 

And this time, it was Elsie ringing Beryl up that interrupted the special moment -- the choir teacher no doubt calling to confirm the purchase of the ring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before I say anything else, I tend to find all’s fair in love and fanfiction. Aka, I figured that Beryl not only deserved to have her own proper hints of romance, she also deserved to be unwittingly interrupted.
> 
>  
> 
> As an adorable Chelsie side note: I would like to add that as I was writing about the ring -- which, seriously, there were so many options -- it began to storm outside. And I mean like Chapter 26 / “March Winds, April Showers” kind of thunderstorm. So, clearly, the universe is all for it because it had been absolutely sunny less than twenty minutes ago and went back to being sunny the moment I started writing that last scene.
> 
> Also, for reference, the inspiring ring in the end can be found by looking up "lab alexandrite ring, engagement ring, oval cut, color changing gemstone ring ,sterling silver ring, June birthstone". Specifically, it should be the first image.
> 
>  
> 
> And, finally, I hope you enjoyed that foray into engagement ring shopping.


	36. A Finale and a Fermata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, ladies and gentlemen -- here it is! After literal months, this is I Shall Not Sing In Vain’s finale!
> 
> **Make sure to check out Chapter 35! It just got posted to AO3 at the same time as Chapter 36 and contains loads of Chelsie-adorableness :D**
> 
> Also! While you won’t get to see all the auditions right now, I’ll be sure to dab those details into the next story when I can. This is for the essence of time, as well as to keep this story from not hitting 250K let alone 300,000 words.
> 
> And, finally, even though the texts of choir songs can be more religious than not, please do not let that deter you from enjoying the sentiment. I probably should've said something sooner; but, personal experience of being in a choir has had me and others sing songs we don't follow the religion of. And, even still, I love many of those songs for the beauty and sentiment they bring with them.

 

Having now completed the main academic ordeals of the semester -- the competitions, the showcases, practically all of the fundraising -- _and_  having now sorted out the romantic aspects like the rings, things were finally beginning to wrap up for school term. Energy was giving way and releasing its hold on the choirs of Downton, at last  _de-crescendoing._

 

It was no longer a time for wrapping up the ordeals of the semester.

 

Now, it was a matter of preparing for the beautiful ordeals of the future.

 

_._

 

**_Thursday, the 2nd of May, 2019 - 9:48am_ **

 

_"Now, students-- students!" Charles had to raise the sense of urgency in his words in order to retain the class's attention. "We can only take twenty-five students, and we have decided that every choir will have a chance to audition."_

 

_Within seconds, shocked silence had taken over the Concert Choir. Obviously, they were of the opinions they’d be the only ones auditioning for this opportunity. And, maybe had this year not turned out as it did, that could’ve been the case. But, it had. And, with this year came the realization that every one of his students was capable of this opportunity, not just his favourites._

 

_As Charles continued to elaborate on the audition process -- there’d be auditions during class periods, and if they couldn’t be seen in class they’d_ _sign-up_ _for a chance to audition during lunch, instead of the normal barging that'd occurred -- and inwardly preened at the plan he was presenting._

 

_All in all, the plan would reduce the stress that came with a flood of auditions. During the class periods, only the main conductor of the choir would be listening to auditions. The teacher who normally played the accompaniment would be watching over the students not auditioning, making sure everyone was well-behaved. This would ensure Elsie didn’t inadvertently sneak more burdens onto her plate without his looking. And seeing as how he was in charge of the Bass Choir and the Concert Choir while she had Bel Canto and Treble, it was an equal set-up._ A cappella _wouldn’t need to audition on its own, because all of those students were in one of the four main choirs. And with a sign-up sheet that had only a certain amount of time allotted for auditions during lunch, they wouldn’t be weighed down by a sea of auditioners when they were supposed to be taking it easy. Moreover, auditions would only last for the week. That would allow for them to take full advantage of the end of the school year, as well as keep the process from overwhelming everyone involved._

 

_Truly, he thought the whole thing absolutely brilliant. What normally would've worn them down to the bone was going to be far easier this time around, and he was unashamedly thankful for that._

 

_"These auditions will, of course, take place after the concert.” Charles continued to inform his students, taking note of the various reactions before him. “And there will be required rehearsals throughout the rest of the semester as well as after the school term has ended."_

 

_"Mr. Carson, where will the competition be?" Rose eagerly asked, not realizing that she’d unintentionally interrupted her director. Yes, well, it wasn't the first time she'd done so -- and she'd not been the first student of the day to interrupt. "And when will it be, for that matter?"_

 

_"The competition will be held in Chicago." Elsie had taken the lead on this one, giving an encouraging smile from the piano. "And the competing choir would be there from the fifth of August to the twelfth…."_

 

_._

 

Although Charles Carson felt absolutely confident that the choir teachers of Downton could manage this audition process smoothly, he hadn’t taken into account that they were dealing with teenagers -- and teenagers rarely made anything smooth. He also hadn’t anticipated the fact that finally purchasing a ring for his significant other had him quite willing to chuck the auditions out the window and focus on proposing instead. He wouldn’t chuck anything away, of course; but the feelings that had sprung up on Saturday made it clear that this was going to be a confusing and trying week, to say the least. 

 

The irony of everything was that it was rare for the choir director -- who has spent countless years focused purely on the choral craft -- to suddenly want to rid himself of that vocal responsibility. Odder still was that he wanted to do so in favour of his life _outside_ of the school. It wasn't due to a musical opportunity, or an enriching chance to increase his knowledge of the realm. 

 

It was all for a relationship he'd do almost anything to have. A woman that had surprised him with her ability to guide his attention toward matters he'd long since given up. And not only did she remind him that he didn't need to give up on anything, he was more than happy to do the same for her.

 

_._

 

**Monday, the 13th of May, 2019 - 9:23am**

 

“Mr. Carson, are you alright?” 

 

Daisy had noticed that the choir director looked a little distracted today, though that could’ve been because Mrs. Hughes was the one currently auditioning the Bel Canto singers. Either way, the young soprano's asking only served to jolt his attention away from his computer, where he’d been looking something over. Now, she couldn’t get a glimpse of what had been on the screen, but Daisy was even more curious because, frankly, Mr. Carson never jolted.

 

“Quite alright, Daisy.” The teacher had spoken, now having exited out of whatever had been on the screen. She frowned at this, knowing he was lying just by looking at him. But, seeing as how she was probably ten minutes from auditioning -- and he was her teacher, not her friend -- she didn’t want to get too distracted by whatever was going on for him.

 

“If you say so, Mr. Carson.” 

 

Returning back to her seat in 402, the young woman patiently waited for the queue in the hallway to diminish. With at least fifty of Bel Canto wanting to audition, both teachers had told everyone to join the queue only when it got to a specific length of people. And, seeing as how it was at least five minutes from whittling down to that acceptable length, she still had time to wonder about what it was she’d almost caught Mr. Carson looking at.

 

“Daisy? You coming or not?”

 

Well, with Ivy nervously interrupting her thoughts -- the girl was worried about auditioning, that much was obvious -- there didn’t actually seem to be time to think about anything.

 

_._

 

**Monday, the 13th of May, 2019 - 9:57am**

 

“Next, please,” Mr. Carson called from 403 -- today’s auditioning room. As 402 was the larger space, the Concert Choir students who had already auditioned or had no interest in traveling got to stay there with Mrs. Hughes keeping an eye on them. 

 

In any case, Mary approached 403 with the air of someone who knew she was getting this opportunity -- and that attitude was half of today’s battle. Changing one’s perspective about auditions significantly increased the chances of getting into the opportunities presented. Thus, she felt she was already in better standing by these thoughts alone. 

 

And, seeing as how her choir director went from neutrally looking at the piano to outright beaming at her entrance, the young soprano couldn’t help but know she had this in the bag.

 

_._

 

**Monday, the 13th of May, 2019 -- 12:37pm**

 

There hadn’t been a stare-down of exasperation when this particular student had deign the second fourth floor with their presence during lunch, having been unable to audition during class. Seeing as how a dozen students had requested to audition during today’s final lunch period, there was no time for such childish actions as a stare-down.

 

Still, that didn’t mean Elsie Hughes was entirely interested in hearing Jimmy Kent audition. 

 

_._

**Tuesday, the 14th of May, 2019 -- 8:22am**

 

**_I’m about to go for it, wish me luck -- AP_ **

 

**_Best of luck to you -- you’ll be great! -- TB_ **

 

He hardly needed to check in until lunch; Thomas knew Andy had the potential to get into the traveling choir. In fact, the baritone suspected that the only thing that'd stop his friend from getting in would be the tenor's own beliefs about his capability.

 

Luckily, they'd been working on those beliefs for a few months now. And, luckier still, the students who would've trounced those beliefs were either uninterested in auditioning -- like some of the ruder choristers in the group -- or kicked out of the school altogether. Such was the case for Edna, who wasn't old enough to be tried as an adult, but was certainly old enough to be appropriately punished for her disgusting behaviour.

 

So, all in all, Andy had a fantastic chance of getting in. 

 

_._

**Tuesday, the 14th of May, 2019 -- 12:07pm**

 

“Are you quite sure, Edith?”

 

The middle Crawley sister had a frown of frustration etched into her lips throughout the whole conversation, but it was with a solemn nod that she nodded again to Mrs. Hughes. Having not felt comfortable sharing this with Mr. Carson, the young lady had opted to sign-up for a lunch time audition instead of a classroom one. Though, she was hardly there to audition.

 

“I’m afraid that there’s a crucial writing conference,” She glumly confessed, having wished she could be in two places at once. “And it’s the week of the choir competition.”

 

Elsie nodded, disheartened by the news but grateful Edith had outright told her instead of saying nothing. A life as a musician frequently had these sorts of moments, where commitments crossed tiring paths and grave decisions had to be made. Typically, people avoided mentioning any sort of conflict, either avoiding the subject altogether or trying their best to make it work.  Which it usually didn’t. 

 

“I understand,” The woman truthfully reassured her student, “And I appreciate your telling me.”

 

Though, said appreciation didn’t make it any less of a disappointment when the young woman had turned away to make an exit. The fact was, Edith Crawley had been growing in confidence, enough that Elsie had been reasonably sure she could be one of the twenty-five singers competing. Not only that, but had Edith competed the teacher felt even surer that the young woman's confidence would have soared further.

 

Still, “Edith,” 

 

The middle Crawley singer paused in the doorway, curiosity beckoning her gaze back over.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes?” 

 

“Would you like to audition all the same?” The young soprano tilted her head, confused. “I could give you some feedback, see where you've improved.”

 

“Why not?” Edith lightly spoke, making her way back in and having her teacher internally cheer at the sight. “There’s no harm in trying.”

 

Five months ago, there was little doubt Edith wouldn’t have risked auditioning for the sake of auditioning. The young singer would have ducked out of sight, stating some sort of excuse to avoid the potential for failure. But, today, the pair found themselves heading toward the piano just for the fun of it. Failure wasn't even a thought in the exercise; only a sense of curiosity took to the air.

 

And _that_ was what Elsie had meant when she said Edith had grown.

 

_._

**Wednesday, the 15th of May, 2019**

 

Even though the week was hardly halfway through, both teachers could already tell who, of those who auditioned, had secured a spot in the traveling choir. Keeping extraordinary standards -- not only about the quality of the voice, but other factors such as work ethic and overall stage presence -- they already had several names marked down. Strangely enough, and this is noted with far more dryness than anything else, it seemed that those who were most willing and most capable had gone earlier in the week. And many of those that followed were doing it only because their friends wanted them to or some equivalent. In essence, it wasn’t really for themselves as much as it was for someone else. 

 

Now, that wasn’t the case for everyone, but it was the case for several. And with that being the case, it became far easier to pinpoint the voices that truly wanted this chance versus the ones who were feigning interest. Which, in turn, made it all easier to figure it out.

 

As such, when Cora Crawley had pulled Charles Carson aside early on Wednesday morning, informing him of yet another meeting they needed to have, the choir director had allowed himself to be taken aside. For, whether it was a budget cut or an error in paperwork, he knew they’d make the best of whatever was discussed next. 

 

And, it’s not as though he really could’ve denied her the meeting in the first place.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -- 6:47am**

 

**_You coming round today or am I walking to you? -- EH_ **

 

**_At a last-minute administrative meeting, sorry. -- CC_ **

 

Elsie wearily sighed as she reread the text once again, remembering the last time the administrators had called for unexpected meetings. Though it ended fairly well for all the choirs -- if they ignored the damage Emma Butte caused, that is -- it had cost a fair amount of energy for everyone amongst other things.

 

Still, it’s not as though Charles had asked to be called into one of these meetings. 

 

**_Ouch. Good luck -- EH_ **

 

And with that, the teacher resigned herself to whatever issue the administration had for the choirs. Even though the woman was convinced they deserved a break by this point, she felt she ought to have known better than to expect smooth sailing for these last few weeks.

 

**_._**

 

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -- 7:01am**

 

“Oh, Elsie,” Truly, after the aftermath of pulling off a successful concert less than a week ago -- and all the drama that ensued throughout said concert -- Elsie didn’t know if she was feeling up to conversing with Isobel at this time. Add to that her fiancé was in a meeting with Isobel’s colleagues, probably being informed of something unpleasant, and she really didn’t have the appetite for this interaction. “Before you head up the stairs, might I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course, Isobel.” She paused in her approach of the stairwell, pivoting smoothly around to meet the woman even as her heart sank. She should’ve realized that whatever was keeping Charles was going to be keeping her as well. “Is something the matter?”

 

“Not quite,” The administrator cryptically answered, confusing the choir teacher even more. “Actually, I have something for you.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

Without another word, Isobel withdrew an envelope from her purse and handed it to the choir teacher. More bewilderment slipped through the cracks of professionalism, as Elsie took the envelope without question.

 

“May I ask who this is from?” The administrator gave a mysterious smile at this, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Suddenly, Elsie didn’t think this was related to any administrative ordeal. "And what it is, exactly?"

 

“I’d rather not reveal their identity. And I certainly won't give that away, either.”

 

Now Elsie knew that this didn’t relate to some administrative errors. Isobel would never be this mysterious when it came to matters of the school. And though the choir teacher still received no legitimate answer on the matter, she had a funny feeling about the whole thing. In fact, as she slid the paper out of the envelope, that funny feeling increased.

 

Lyrics.

 

Isobel Crawley was handing her lyrics from a song. And looking down at the unfamiliar handwriting, there was an inherent sense of recognition that came with the words themselves.

 

_"Led by the light_

_Of faith serenely beaming,_

_With glowing hearts,_

_By his cradle we stand."_

 

"Now, who do we know that is a fan of 'O Holy Night'?" Elsie pretended to ponder, garnering a chuckle for her light sarcasm. Considering that there were only a few people who would memorize anything other than the opening line, the list of suspects of fairly small. Why that line in particular, she'd have to ask the writer later. Still, if it was who she thought it was, there was quite possibly no mystery at all.

 

It had been the song that she'd caught on a stairwell early on in the fall semester, a song that produced with it a sweet first meeting and a fantastic finale for the winter concert.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find out for us.” The tease was knowingly spoken, as both women already knew the answer. “Though you’ll have to get a move on -- classes begin in about an hour, after all.”

 

“Indeed.” Elsie placed the envelope and note in her own purse, getting the feeling that there'd be far more to the morning than she originally anticipated. “Well, I best be off.”

 

“Agreed,” Isobel said, with the air of someone who knew the whole story and wouldn’t give any of it away. “Oh, and before I forget: thank you for the toaster!”

 

That gratitude derailed Elsie in her mission instantaneously, “Excuse me?”

 

“Only, the administrators received a toaster overnight. It’s in brilliant condition, and we found it waiting for us -- still boxed up -- on the sofa this morning. Since only I and Mr. Carson have keys to the room, there really could be only one person who gave it to us.” Elsie stared in wonderment at the woman, “And, to be quite honest, although the note was _very_ Mr. Carson we all figured it had to have been your plan.”

 

“Yes, well," Elsie had searched for the right words to graciously accept this fascinating surprise, but couldn't settle on anything. So, she moved on to her only question, "Remind me: what did the note say?” She calmly inquired, still reeling but pretending to know what the woman talked of. 

 

“‘Dear administration,’” Isobel recalled as though it had only been a few minutes ago instead of an hour or two. “‘If you would be so kind as to let the presence of this toaster inhabit your break-room, we would be rather honored. Sincerely, the Music Faculty of Downton’.”

 

Elsie mustered all of her strength to keep from blushing at the use of the word “inhabit”, the word conjuring a delightful night, and the fact that the toaster had been found on the _sofa_ of all places. But she couldn’t hold back a touched smile at this, knowing that she could allow herself that small reaction.

 

“Would you look at the time?” The administrator noted, quickly refocusing even as her eyes grinned at her colleague, “I’d better let you get to it then!” 

 

“Right,” The choir teacher agreed, now in no mood to waste anymore time. If Charles was being mysterious and sweet, there had to be a reason for it. And, seeing as how he would never propose to her in the midst of an audition week, it may well be that there was more excellent news about the fundraising. Though, how he set this all up in the middle of a meeting escaped her. 

 

“Well, we know one thing,” The woman muttered to herself, determinedly climbing up the stairs, “We won’t find out the truth by standing here.

 

_._

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -- 7:06am**

 

It had been a shock to discover Charles was not waiting for her in 402. She’d long since figured he wasn’t going to be waiting in 403, but she had been surprised to note his absence in 402.

 

Odder still, there was something waiting for her on the piano. A plateful of fresh sandwiches and some sheet music that, on closer inspection, was flipped to a specific page....

 

_‘Twas on a Sunday morning,_

_And there I saw my darling!_

_She looked so neat and charming_

_In every high degree!_

 

Tears of nostalgia were threatening to plummet onto the sheet music, as she continued to look it over -- hardly needing to reference the score. And while she wasn't one for overt sentimentality, there was a sense of beautiful style to this. A tender consideration existed, one that stole away her ability to maintain impartial to the references and memories before her.

 

_She looked so neat and nimble-o_

_A-wearing of her linen-o._

_Dashing away with the smoothing iron,_

_Dashing away with the smoothing iron,_

_Dashing away with the smoothing iron,_

_She stole my heart away!_

 

“Charles?” The sandwiches could wait -- if she was right, he was hiding himself in the music library. “Charles, are you there?”

 

Much to Elsie's surprise, only a charming bouquet of flowers awaited her in the spot in which they shared their first kiss. It was very sweet, she could not deny that. But now there was only about forty minutes until classes started and she still had no idea where Charles could possibly be --

 

_Of course._

 

This isn't about the choirs or fundraising. 

 

This is about them.

 

And she knows exactly where he is.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -- 7:13am**

 

When she finally arrives at the courtyard, he is patiently waiting for her at the fountain -- that same fountain that she had eventually cried at on that horrible day. It just so happens to be near the bench in which he offered the opportunity to remain at Downton and continue teaching. And there are far more many other memories that come to mind -- that October day in which she offered to make the world a little less heavy for him, the chats they’d held over numerous subjects in this very spot, their spring concert -- that she can’t help but feel profoundly overwhelmed and innately grateful for everything that has brought them here.

 

“Do you not suppose,” Elsie cannot help but ask, inwardly trembling even as she maintains a steady tone. “That we ought to have waited until after everyone auditioned?”

 

She can sense the sheepishness and nerves from him even as he holds onto a calm demeanour. And it is only once she has made it over to him, only once their hands meet again and an overwhelming serendipity comes over them, that he kneels before her and confesses one final thing:

 

“I couldn’t.” 

 

Elsie beams fondly at this, her heart conducting itself at a speed she didn’t care to distinguish as tears form once again. All she knows was that _andantino_ tenderly grips the air as the ring is gently, finally, brought into the open. 

 

He doesn't ask her if she's offended or if she's changed her mind. Feathers have long since knocked them both into this moment, the pair feeling perfectly weightless as time stands still. They can take as long as they like here, propriety and decorum hardly needing to watch over the scene. It hardly matters if anyone else sees this moment because there's no shame in it. In fact, there's only a sense of ardent belonging as they both know the answer to the unspoken question:

 

Neither of them are ever going to be marrying anyone else.

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -- 7:25am**

 

Eventually, they had to carry on with the day. Time had to pick up again, classes had to be prepared for. An engagement didn't mean one could slack in their teachings, after all.

 

Yet, leading the way out of the courtyard together, they unashamedly linked arms and basked in the pleasure that came with this stunning morning. The proposal put forth this morning was beautifully received, with chaste kisses and enchanted spinning around the courtyard ensuing. And, yes, as they stepped back up the stairs, professionalism came back again. Said professionalism still didn’t take away the fact that they were now officially engaged. 

 

But, it did remind them of their upcoming responsibilities.

 

“You know the competition requirements as well as I, Charles,” Elsie had remarked, having relentlessly thought this over in the back of her mind for weeks. “We’ve already chosen our composition by a composer from England, as well as our composition by a composer who’s not from England. In addition to that, we know what we’ll be doing for the living composer requirement. It’s the composition of our choice, that’s where I’m struggling to make a decision.” There were far too many options in her opinion, far too many possibilities to make a final choice.

 

“Yes, well, about that,” His hesitation came with a far more _staccato_ quality than normal, drawing immediate interest. Throughout the entire morning, the man had hardly spoke in a fashion -- even when nerves had taken over, his tone had never been this stilted. But, now, an obvious hesitation started to cloak the man's words. “I’ve an idea about that.”

 

“Oh?” This came of no surprise to her. What was surprising was the tentative quality Charles held when it came to handing his suggestion over. Though, now that they were stepping through the doors of 402, that tentative quality might finally slip away. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be brilliant.” 

 

In other words, _I do trust you and whatever you're thinking of, you daft man._

 

“Right.” _I hope you’ll still be saying that after this._ “While I agree that we have many reliable options for that fourth song, there is a new song that I think we ought to consider.”

 

_My, my: a song we've not performed before?_ “Do you have it on hand, this song of yours?” _Why the mystery, Charles?_

 

“Well, it isn’t exactly mine, but,” _Oh, I hope you approve. And, yes, I'm stalling--_ "It is on my computer."

 

_Novelty and technology, courtesy of Charles Carson? I must be dreaming._

 

Charles nodded, oblivious to her thoughts, guiding her over to join him at his computer and praying this worked. After the moment it took to bring the computer back to life, he motioned for her to look over his shoulder and inspect the screen’s current projection for herself. Having been ruminating the thought ever since it occurred to him, he’d always kept a page open on his computer in case he decided to finally pitch the suggestion. And now, after everything, it was time to hand this last suggestion over:

 

**Let My Love Be Heard | Jake Runestad**

 

Elsie’s breath caught in unmistakable shock, the memory needed no prompting to flash back to the forefront of her mind. Marriage proposal forgotten, she felt herself transported to the recollection as though it had been hours ago instead of weeks.

 

__.__

 

**_Tuesday, the 2nd of April, 2019 - 3:21pm_ **

 

_Charles had unhappily stepped out to catch a brief and supposedly important meeting with the music department faculty, having been loathed to leave Elsie alone. It had been a day since she’d told him of her friend passing and the woman seemed as distraught as she had yesterday, understandably so._ _Nevertheless, it was she who insisted that he step out to make sure they didn’t miss any opportunities to support and work with the department. And it was she who also agreed that she wouldn’t leave the school until he came back -- which was the only reason he felt comfortable enough going to the meeting in the first place._

 

"Angels, where you soar

Up to God's own light,"

 

_So, he had left the second fourth floor, tersely conversed with his colleagues for however long was necessary, listened for anything worthy of note, and left the meeting as quickly as he could. It was in his opinion that no one should be left alone during such a severe time of grief, least of all Elsie Hughes. And, with that opinion in mind, he hardly cared to delay his return to the second fourth floor anymore than he had to._

 

"Take my own lost bird

On your hearts tonight;"

_Now, i_ _t wasn’t that he felt overly concerned for her actions in his absence. He felt that she wasn’t the type of person to let herself become overwhelmed with grief to the point where any escape was a welcomed one._ _He just wanted to make sure she wasn’t suffering alone, when she didn’t have to._

 

 

_At least, that’s what he kept telling himself._

 

"And as grief once more 

Mounts to heaven and sings,"

 

_But, judging from his quickened pace of something far more intense than_ allegretto   _\-- a fast tempo in itself -- the man could only suppose he really was concerned for what might occur in his absence. That, even if she didn’t feel the urge to somehow escape her situation,_ _she might let herself get trapped in its inherent sorrow and become oblivious to anything else._

 

 

"Let my love be heard,"

 

_It was at that moment that faint strains of music came slipping through the stairwell. Something too indistinct to be detected initially, but something he could hear after careful concentration._

 

“Let my love be heard,"

 

_Charles had gone all the way to the guitar room on the ground floor for this silly little meeting so the sound was still faint, practically indistinct, as he ascended the stairwell. It was only his years of experience that gave him the ability to detect the whift of sound gliding down the stairwell._

 

"Whispering in your wings."

 

_Still, faint or not, there was only one place it could be coming from._

 

_And, he didn’t know if that was a reassuring thought._

 

_Rivulets of song, brought forth by the alto and soprano sections of the recording no doubt, snaked down the steps. Their melancholic voices effortlessly haunted the space, the resonance provided by the stairwell allowing him to truly catch the individual sections as they blended their parts into chilling chords._

 

“Let my love be heard.” 

 

_Each step brought him closer to the enthralling music as it seemed to languidly drift into a louder dynamic level. Rippling between_ mezzo-piano _and_ mezzo-forte _, Charles found himself losing his thoughts to this unseen choir -- their voices sorrowfully bringing to him their loss all the way from the second fourth floor._

 

“Let my love

Be heard.”

 

_A solemn reverberation of anguish called him past the second floor and the third as he found himself increasing his pace. The steps, typically a tedious exercise in themselves, felt like nothing as Charles blindly took to them like a soprano_ coloratura _took to trills._

 

“Let my love be heard.”

 

_For the song to be heard so clearly on the stairs, whoever was playing had to have a classroom's speakers turned up to an incredibly high volume -- one where all thoughts would be drowned out by the ocean flooding the space._

 

“Let my love be heard.”

 

_A dreaded increase in timing cued as the pacing of his steps rose to another tempo, his breath repeatedly catching itself in an effort to bring himself closer to the sound. The lyrics, though repetitive in nature, were hypnotic in their message. It mattered less that the words were the same, and more of the variations that laid within the tone of the piece, the musical sensations that seeped into the ears of those who had the privilege of listening to this._

 

“Let my love

Be heard.”

 

_Reaching another chord of stunning quality, Charles finally managed to slip into the second fourth floor silently. He found his fears unwillingly soothed away by the gorgeous notes building into a sound of pure, musical languish. Unbidden tears didn’t fall, but they were long past forming -- the intoxicating grief of the piece seeping into his own thoughts. These were notes that spoke of loss, of life taken far too soon, and of a despairing love crying out for those no longer on Earth._

 

“Let my love,”

 

_And with these mind-numbing feelings overtaking his actions, he could only anxiously wonder just what Elsie would be doing when he opened that door. He himself was now recalling his own times of anguish, the moments in which the loss of loved ones nearly overpowered him. And if that is how he felt listening to this, with those incidences being several years old, he could only imagine the piercing level of emotion she was captivated by._

 

“Be heard.”

 

_With a hand refusing to tremble, Charles cautiously opened the door to 403 and furtively crept into the room. The climax of the song --- the moment in which the chords stretched far past ethereal grief and into something overwhelmingly heart-wrenching -- was being reached as he hurriedly stepped over the threshold._

 

“Let my love be heard!”

 

Mezzo-forte _had long since past_ fortissimo _as the piercing notes were fiercely held for an indeterminable amount of time. Time itself seemed nonexistent in this moment, and there was_ **_never_ ** _a moment for Charles Carson in which that was truly the case. But, he couldn’t recognize that fact in the face of her standing so destroyed in the back of the room, a deadened stare reaching out into the depressingly grey skies the day had provided. He could only walk to her in the jarring silence of_ _the recording, a_ fermata _that could not have been nearly as long as the eternity it took to reach her._

 

“Angels, where you soar,

Up to God...

Let My Love Be Heard.”

 

_Gently resting a hand on her shoulder only resulted in bringing the shakes and trembles of anguish back. She wasn’t able to sob into his shoulder, nor did she want to cling to him as though he were the only thing keeping her standing. But they were able to cry together in the quiet following the recording, cry and embrace the fact that this was so very,_ very _unfair._

 

_._

 

**Thursday, the 16th of May, 2019 -** **7:26am**

 

“You remembered.” Elsie breathed out, astonished by the memories that came flooding back. It’d only been a little over a month since Liz’s passing, but they had pushed through so much within that time that she would’ve thought that mournful moment forgotten for him.

 

“How could I ever forget it?” He glanced back at the piece, a little overwhelmed by the emotional charge in her statement. “But, is it the right choice?”

 

_I mean, should we take those days and change what they have meant? Should we take this song, this personal lament, into the future with us?_

 

Instead of verbally sharing her response through the previously repressed rivers now caressing her face, Elsie expressed her opinion by resolutely bringing her lips to his. But, once adrenaline started to give way to a trembling contemplation, once she felt a little more grounded, she knew words would greatly help to assuage his nerves.

 

“It’s perfect, Charles,” She murmured through the tears, remnants of grief pouring out of her at the thought of performing this. “Absolutely perfect.”

 

_Yes, we should._

 

_._

 

**Wednesday, the 22nd of May, 2019 - 3:21pm**

 

Elsie Hughes looked at the twenty-five of them through the doorway of 402 with more than a sense of pride. Each individual that stood before her, every singer that held her attention in this moment, had been more than capable of the opportunity they now had. Whatever her personal feelings, for better or worse, they had all auditioned inordinately well and undoubtedly had what it took to handle competing abroad. 

 

Charlotte Williams, Mary Crawley, Anna Smith, and Rose MacClare firmly held the four spots available to the First Sopranos. Daisy Robinson, Sybil Crawley, and Gwen Dawson maintained the Second Soprano section. Phyllis Baxter, Megan Abbott, and Sarah O’Brien carried on in the space designated to the Alto Ones. Gladys Denker, Evelyn Portillo, and Isabel Johnson proudly took the seats for Alto Twos. For the Tenors, Matthew Crawley, Jimmy Kent, William Mason, and Andy Parker were the top choices. When it came to Baritones, Tom Branson, Thomas Barrow, Joseph Moseley, and John Bates remained the best. And, representing the Basses, Septimus Spratt, Harold Lowe, Robert Thompson, and Alfred Nugent happily took the mantle. 

 

“Students,” Charles and Elsie had decided to enter 402 together -- having long since agreed that neither would take full control in this matter. “Congratulations on successfully auditioning into the Traveling Chorale. Over 125 of your fellow classmates auditioned for this opportunity, but after serious consideration you were deemed to be the ones who would get to compete abroad.”

 

Having already positioned the four songs on a table specially moved to the front of the classroom, the stacks of sheet music calling to every singer in the room, the two teachers firmly took their places behind it. They demanded their students’ focus to the point of having already laid sheets of blank white paper over the stacks, obscuring the titles of the pieces for now. 

 

“There are only four pieces we will be working with. Regardless of which choir you come from, regardless of what you have already learned, you are responsible for thoroughly researching them all and understanding their messages.” Charles informed them, letting Elsie soon take the reigns again as he kept a firm eye on everyone.

 

“While we will be rehearsing for the rest of the semester and throughout the summer, you are also responsible for memorizing your part. Your section leader, a student who will be officially designated by the end of the next rehearsal, will be a resource to help with learning the material. However, it is on you to learn your part.

 

“We will, of course, be doing voice-checks and sectionals to ensure that you have your piece thoroughly memorized. And, not only does it need to be memorized, it needs to be correct. _A cappella_ as a whole requires a distinct level of precision in order to produce the chords written. As such, laziness or neglect when it comes to learning your music will not be tolerated. We may have the capability to take twenty-five, but that is not a guarantee of your competing.”

 

She got them all to solemnly nod in understand as twenty-five pairs of eyes held onto their original enthusiasm. This lecture only sparked their competitive attitudes to life, bringing a sense of innate concentration with it.

 

It was Charles who calmly finished their little speech, “Until the semester has come to an end, we will rehearse after-school every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Those of you who cannot make those times will be required to work one-on-one with either myself or Mrs. Hughes during your respective class period. Failure to make _three_ rehearsals will result in your losing your spot in this choir, and that will be that.

 

“We would also like to add that, as a competing choir, you will be rehearsing quite closely with one another for the next two-and-a-half months. Therefore, any squabbling or disruptive attitudes will also not be tolerated.” He placed a stern _fermata_ in the speech, meeting everyone’s eyes and making sure they understood how serious this was. “Consider this to be a taste of what the professional world looks like. You will have to work with all sorts of individuals and adapt to what the situation requires, whatever your personal feelings may be. Do I make myself clear?”

 

In short, no drama would be tolerated. Failure to remain respectful and professional would not result in the choir falling apart -- it would only result in release of the student or students that stirred up trouble in the first place. 

 

And, after the semester they’d had, each singer knew Mr. Carson was being completely honest when he spoke for the two teachers. He may have his favourites, she may be a bit biased herself, but that’s why they were both to be in charge. Working together would maintain the fact that this was not about any one individual -- it was about the choir as a whole.

 

“Yes, Mr. Carson.” One after another, they echoed this sentiment, knowing that neither he nor Mrs. Hughes were playing around.

 

“Good.” Nodding to his colleague, they started to remove the papers obscuring the music sheets -- satisfied enough to let their charges see what the music was. “Just as you would be in class, you will line up in alphabetical order and inform Mrs. Hughes which copy of the music you have. She will write your number down and you will be responsible for this music until the 13th of August. As always, write any personal notations in pencil. And, know that if you lose your music you will be personally responsible for paying for it. Am I understood?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Carson.”

 

Waiting a full _half-note_  of stillness to ensure attention, Charles shared a brief and silent conversation with Elsie before they looked back at their charges -- indicating that it was time to follow instructions. The students all stood up, silently forming into a respectful line even as their minds fiercely buzzed with activity. Everyone recognized the three of the four pieces that waited for them at the table, the four songs they would be becoming quite familiar with this summer.

 

_Dashing Away With The Smoothing Iron_ by John Rutter

 

_Vox Populi_ by Giedrius Svilainis

 

_Water Night_ by Eric Whitacre

 

It was only the fourth piece, the one at the end of the table, that many of them didn’t recognize. Gleaming with the air of specially purchased music, the last song in the selection sat patiently alongside its companion pieces.

 

_Let My Love Be Heard_ by Jake Runestad.

 

Suffice to say, mysterious pieces or not, they would be in for quite a performance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I am proud to say that We Did Not Read In Vain, ladies and gentlemen!
> 
> Now, since I am still in the process of writing the next story in this universe, I would like to propose something a little unorthodox. If I have learned anything with writing this story, it’s to make sure the whole piece is written up before posting. Therefore, while I finish up that, I plan on posting a little Chelsie project I’ve been playing with. You may be asking, just what is it I have in mind? Well, that, my lovely readers, is why we’ve got summaries:
> 
>  
> 
> What do trapeze artists, magical artifacts, starships, dragons, tattoos, dinosaurs, vigilantism, keys, security officers, and crossdressing vocalists all have in common?
> 
> Why, they’re all different ways life could have gone for Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson.
> 
>  
> 
> In other words, I’ve put together 10 Chelsie-centered AU one-shots and, after a little more polishing, will be posting them on a regular basis. The plan being that, by the time Ten Other Ways has wrapped up, the third story in this universe will be ready to be posted. Ranging from angsty fix-its to risqué performances, this little collection has one intention: to play with the concept of alternate universes and challenge what reality can be.
> 
>  
> 
> All in all, thank you for being a part of this amazing journey! I am honored by all of your reviews, favorites, as well as follows! Truly, I had not imagined this little thought of mine to expand into such a creation -- and it is absolutely thanks to you that this has grown to the level it has. Therefore, when it’s time I’ll be sure to post an author’s note in this story to let you know that the next one is ready.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and if you want a reference for their fourth and final competition piece, look up “Let My Love Be Heard - Jake Runestad Bob Cole Conservatory Chamber Choir.”
> 
>  
> 
> Till Next Time!


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